Sink or swim
by juliasejanus
Summary: Complete AU part way through Skeleton Key. Alex's luck runs out or does it. Also my homage to the Paralympics. So maybe it is a crossover with Athens 2004 as well.
1. Chapter 1

13th September 2003

Alex stood and collected his thoughts. Everything would change now. Alex hated uncertainty and chaos with a passion. Alex loved routine and stability. His life for the past twenty months had been ordered and regular. Doctors appointments, both medical and psychiatric, physiotherapy appointments, appointments for prosthetics, swimming practice and school. Even meal planning was by monthly fixed plan. Tom occasionally burst in and mucked Alex about. He could tolerate disruption for Tom. Tom had helped pick up the pieces after everything had gone to shit in 2001.

Two flights of steps up to the roof terrace, Alex had to concentrate. Dark metal stairs were a problem still. Judging each footstep and maneuvering his body upwards. Hauling more like. He still wished to be able to run with abandon. He still kind of shuffled walking. His gait never completely smooth nor natural looking. He walked like the cripple he was. Then he checked his thoughts 'think positive, remember what you can do'. He was still sports mad, it was just different. He cycled, weight trained and swam, he swam well, brilliantly in fact. Alex schooled his expression, showing no outward signs of nerves or apprehension. He took in the sounds of the party. There were a lot of Tony's work colleagues, acquaintances and friends here. Eating, talking and drinking. A small jazz band playing subdued music. Tony's thing. Being rich, inherited wealth, meant Tony liked to entertain very tastefully. Alex's adoptive father, Tony had gone to Eton, grown up in a large house in Hampstead. Knew all the right people. Tony and his partner had been Alex's saving grace. Alex still did not know why he and Jon had put up with him, he'd been distant, moody and down right stroppy at times.

Alex made eye contact from the top of the stairs with his papa, as Tony liked to be called. He was more a mommy in personality except for the rugged too handsome face. Alex raised his hand in greeting and watched Tony sign "I thought you were staying over a Becka's?"

Alex signed back "Martin pulled out of the swim meet". Tonight, had been the southern counties championships. Martin was the West London's Swim Club's star swimmer. He had called in just before the minibus was due to leave to say he was ill. Alex was team 3rd reserve. He didn't like able bodied meets much. He got stared at. Had to endure comments. He preferred just to train. He trained with the prig Martin. Martin, who could go to the Nationals if he turned up. "I texted you." Alex then signed "Coach is here. He wants to talk."

Alex went down stairs in the same slow manner. Each footfall careful. He purposefully did not grip the rail and tried to be soft and effortless. Fat chance. Alex did not stay to observe Tony make pleasant excuses. The actor's friends knew about his adopted son, disabled, depressed and with the occasionally violent outburst. Family for the last two years had come first for Tony. Before Alex's arrival, Tony had been ambitious and driven. He chased parts and work, always on the phone to his agents, his publicist and friends. Life had settled into occasional TV and film parts and now a coveted membership of the National Theatre Company. In fact, Tony worked more now he was a parent than he had before.

Alex smiled briefly at his coach as he came into the house. Bill was perched on the edge of the kitchen table drinking a cup of black coffee. Alex walked past and went straight to the bread bin, pulling out three rolls and then he raided the fridge. Meat free sandwich slices, tomatoes, mayonnaise and the carton of soya milk were pulled out. Tony came in and the first word out of his mouth were Use a glass. Alex smiled and as he obediently retrieved a glass from the cupboard.

"Hello Bill. Whats the problem?" Asked the perplexed actor.

Alex was busy drinking milk and nearly snorted in laughter. Yes the last time Alex had come home with the coach he had been sporting a black eye, when another kid had socked him one after he got out of the pool. Boy that kid had been a sore loser. Alex had fallen over hence he had not returned the punch. For once, Alex had not been in serious trouble. Derek's mum was the club secretary. She had been shocked and appalled that her son had hit a poor defenseless disabled boy during a club training session. Derek was a bully pure and simple and loosing a training race to a cripple had been too much for his delicate pride.

"No problem. Do you want to tell your dad?"

"OK" said Alex. "I broke the British Record for the 100m Freestyle tonight. The S8 British Record."

"What does that mean?"

"Alex will be offered a place on the national squad for the Paralympics. If he does the same in the National Championships in April he will be going to Athens. It means a new diet, more training here and in Loughborough. At least two separate training weeks and bi-monthly training weekends before April and then a three week training camp in Spain next summer. He needs to train in a 50m pool. I'll talk to you on Monday. The Record will be logged by then. Alex swam brilliantly." Bill smiled at Alex "Like Ian Thorpe".

Alex returned the smile. His hero was the Thorpedo.

Alex showed his coach out.

"You're going to the Paralympics. British No. 1."

"Yep."

"What got you so riled up that you tried so hard?"

"Cunt face Poulsen laughed and called me a cripple during warm up. I showed that smug faced bastard. He had no idea why I was so pleased coming fifth until Bill told everyone I broke the national record for my disability. I knocked nearly two seconds of my PB tonight. Poulsen did not come close to Olympic qualifying time."

"Come upstairs. You can have a beer or maybe a glass of Champagne. Have you called Jon?"

"No I'll call in the morning. Time difference. I don't want to wake him up in the middle of the night."

Alex walked up the stairs beside Tony. He looked at the floor as Tony made his announcement. Alex was now on the British Paralympic Swim Team. Fastest S8 ever in Great Britain. Alex had just started A Levels in Maths, Computer Science, Spanish and Russian at Lambeth Sixth Form College. He wanted to go to University, something he had discussed at length with Jon. He would have to do serious juggling of studies and training. It was only a year to the games.

Alex sat and texted in the morning, it was after midday somewhere in Pakistan or Afghanistan where Jon was working. Having a parent still working for the bank sucked. It was the only way Alex could have got back into a semi-normal life. Alex tried not to think about the spring, summer and autumn two years ago. Everything had gone spectacularly wrong on the 24th July 2001. Then Alex wasn't aware of anything after that until start of August. The kind russian, bathing him, feeding him, telling him it would be OK. Alex was stirred from his thoughts by his phone. The James Bond theme, it was Jon. "Dad, you got my text?

"Whats this broke the British S8 swimming record, on the paralympic swim team, training in Loughborough soon?"

"All of the above. I'm in line to go to Athens next september. Papa and I have a meeting with the coach tomorrow."

"God I wish I could be there, Al. I'm so proud. I thought you had no swim meets until November?"

"I was reserve for the Southern Championships, two guys did not show. I got to swim in the 100 free. Came fifth, 1.01.9. Not bad for a kid with no feet." Alex did not add he had also swum three relays last night.

"Not bad at all. Look after Tony for me?"

"Always, bye."

Alex swung out of bed. Socks on, legs on. Food.

Jon Smith was sat in a cave with two laptops, a satellite phone and a miraculously quiet generator. He was waiting with two teams of SAS. A short dark man grunted. "So whats Cub done now." Jon had kept them entertained with stories of Cub's antics at school and swim club. Alex was forever in trouble for mouthing off, fighting and breaking rules. Alex stood his ground and fought to be treated as a normal kid, even if he treated most normal kids as the enemy.

"Cub has a place on the National Swim Team. I bet he'll train like a devil to get to the Paralympics in Athens next September."

Tony was sat in the kitchen, hidden behind the Sunday Times. He was dressed immaculately, eating muesli and drinking thick black Italian coffee. "Morning trouble. There's coffee in the pot."

"Umm no caffeine allowed. I'll have juice"

Alex began to assemble his morning snack, a pile of toast with peanut butter and a pint of orange juice" Alex was tall. 6'2" with his prosthetic legs attached, 4 inches taller than Tony. Alex was dressed in his usual large T shirt and long football shorts hanging off his slim hips.

"So just us or did any of your freaky friends stay."

Tony looked at Alex at this point. "Lana and Mike are in the guest room. They'll probably surface near midday."

"Do you want me to cook lunch?" asked Alex as he sat down opposite his papa.

"No Alex, we'll go to the Duke for lunch." The Duke of Cambridge was two streets over and their local, it had a lovely beer garden.

"Shit I can't drink coca cola." swore Alex.

"Have you got a full diet sheet?"

"No. Bill said if it tastes good I can't eat or drink it. The list of prohibited medicines is immense. Good job I'm not on happy pills anymore." Alex ate in silence than added "Are you on stage tonight?"

"Yes. I'll be out from 5 till midnight. You can do your homework."

"Goody Russian. I like my reading list. Its not depressing at all."

"Have you done your maths?"

"At lunch on Friday."

"And computing?"

"Ahh... I'm on restriction in the computer lab again."

"Who's account did you hack this time?"

"I did nothing illegal. I just redesigned part of the college's website."

"Alex!"

"It runs much better now. Their firewall was totally inadequate. Jon checked my programming. He said I'd get into Cambridge tomorrow. I'm down to do my exams for computing in January. Mr Clark can't teach me anything. Jon could run rings around him."

"Well, Jon has a Phd in Computing and Electronic Engineering and is an encryption specialist."

"Yeah I know 'those who can do. Those who can't teach'." quipped Alex cheekily

"Are you going to exercise this morning?" queried Tony

"Pilates, weights and cycling." Alex then began to eat.

"I'll join you for pilates."

"And the rest."


	2. Chapter 2

3rd October 2001

State Security Services had gathered the evidence against Alexei Sarov. He was an enemy of Cuba and would be dealt with as such. Special Forces quickly took the perimeter. The compound at Caya Eskeletyo was only lightly guarded. The intelligence had been passed to them from a Scorpia agent on the inside. They approached the house with extra care. They entered the office. Alexei Sarov had taken his own life, a bullet to the head. The slow process of mopping up began, when a man moving in the shadows left the base unobserved. Corporal Lorenz and his unit were moving through the cellar. Each room was clean and empty. Only one was locked. Keys were tried and the door opened carefully. The stench of fasces, urine, vomit and blood filled the air. Chained to the wall was a naked youth, a teenager missing his feet.

25th October 2001

Angel Suarez was officially the senior press attaché at the Cuban embassy in Washington. In fact he was the Director of Intelligence. He looked at the file on his desk. The contents made even him ill. A child. MI6 and CIA had used a child for operations. The boy was being looked after at the Santa Cruz Military Hospital. He had been healed, was receiving psychiatric care and was a model patient in rehabilitation and physiotherapy. The boy pushing himself hard to walk again on prosthetics. He had told them everything. Torture at the hands of Scorpia had already broken the boy. Alex was a victim of blackmail and manipulation by his own country. The Central Committee had offered the boy the choice of staying in Cuba. Alex wanted to see his guardian, some woman called Jack Starbright who had recently returned to the United States. She had brought the boy up from the age of 7. Suarez thought she was probably CIA as well. The boy's life was based on lies, manipulation and blackmail.

Suarez picked up his coat and the file. He knew Joe Byrne was having lunch in Georgetown today. He was going to gate crash.

"Good afternoon, Joe. How is your lunch?" Suarez spoke with a Miami accented english and a white broad smile.

Joe Byrne was dining with his two assistant directors. The cuban knew they all had Level 1 clearance.

"Afternoon Angel. How are things in Havana?" answered the guarded CIA assistant director.

"I have some news for you regarding those missing tourists." Both Suarez and Byrne knew exactly what was being talked about without mentioning their names.

Suarez threw down the file. "You know, I didn't think anything in our line of business could shock me anymore then you and Alan Blunt lower my expectations. Read. I even had it translated into English for you."

Byrne read quickly, memorizing as he went. First. a brief mission report. The CIA knew Cuban State Security had taken out Alexei Sarov's operation at the beginning of the month. Scorpia had taken a real bashing recently. Some one on the inside was liquidating the Committee. Then the photo of a boy, the only thing Byrne could make out for certain was the blond very short hair. The face was a mass of bruising. It was hard to tell if it was alive or a corpse. "The Gardiner's son?"

"Foster son. Birth name Alexander John Rider. Keep reading."

Byrne actually swore. And wiped his face. "Alex is alive."

"He's actually doing really well. Dr. Torres at first thought he was too traumatized for any meaningful recovery. Alex has been most helpful and cooperative. He is responding to treatment well. He has PTSD and acute depression but therapy is helping."

The Covert Operations Chief quickly scanned the medical and interrogation records. "Do you know who tortured and raped him?"

"Yes. Scorpia operative. Yassen Gregorovich. He trained under Dr. Three and the assassin Hunter."

Still reading Byrne asked "It says Sarov was treating him as his son."

"Yes. Alex is grieving for him. The old bastard was kind to him. Scorpia's board wanted the boy broken. From what Alex says, Yassen Gregorovich first met him during his first mission taking out Herod Sayle. Gregorovich used the torture sessions as instruction. We have no other mention of Gregorovich ever taking a sexual partner."

Byrne was actually stumped by this revelation. Gregorovich had no known personal connections except his relationship with his trainer and partner Hunter "You're telling me Alex has a relationship with Yassen Gregorovich."

"I know you will want to use the boy for a sting. Must I remind you that Gregorovich is a controlling sadist and Alex is a fourteen year old child."

Byrne continued to read as his two companions read the pages as he finished them. "How did the amputations happen?"

"You can blame your agents and their little diving trip. Alex was pulled out of the water but only after he had encountered a great white shark. Both your agents were shark food at that point, I'm afraid."

"So, you have Alex. Are you going to use him to embarrass us?" Byrne knew a revelation like this could even bring down the President.

"No. Alex wants to see his guardian from London, Jack Starbright before he decides what to do. Your medical facilities in the US offer better rehabilitation and prosthetics for him. I'm afraid the base psychiatrist is adamant that Alex's welfare is first and foremost. We are not animals. We do not abuse children."

"I need to discuss it with the Brits." Byrne knew Blunt would not want to let Alex out from under his thumb, no matter how damaged the boy was.

"Oh how I would like to eavesdrop on your conversation with Blunt and Jones." Angel was almost laughing. " Don't worry I already couriered the file to Sir Charles Fellows. Seeing those two taken down a peg or two will be worth it." The the Cuban switched to deadly serious "Alex is afraid of going home to London. He knows Jack has left. He thinks MI6 will throw him in some mental home and forget about him. That boy deserves the best medical care, a family and stability. Dr. Torres has kept the Central Committee in Havana informed. The highest echelons of our government want what is best for Alex. Make sure it happens."

Jack had come home to her parents thinking Alex was dead. Now she was traveling to Cuba of all places. She was burning with curiosity to know what had happened to Alex and also afraid of finding out. The CIA man had told her very little. She had been offered full custody of Alex in America if everything went OK. Alex's living and medical expenses would be covered.

The petite red head was met by two uniformed Cuban Army officers at Havana airport, and was escorted through passport control and was shown back out onto the tarmac to a military helicopter. Jack sat sandwiched between the silent soldiers. She caught glimpses of fields and jungle and then the crystal blue waters of the Caribbean. The military base was on the shore. A short jeep ride followed to a grey grab building, the base hospital. Jack was allowed no time to gather her bearings. She was marched down a long hall to a lounge area. There sat Alex looking small and alone in a wheelchair. Alex coughed as they approached. The force of it seemed to rack through his entire frail frame. He was wrapped in a blanket despite the tropical heat.

Then Jack noticed there were no foot rests on the wheelchair. No feet.

"What happened Alex? Oh my God. Your… your..." exclaimed the shocked American.

"Crippled? Yeah. Thanks to the CIA." Alex countered in a flat voice and no enthusiasm. Alex looked with old eyes at his former guardian, it seemed like a million years since he had last seen her. "How are you Jack? I heard MI6 deported you."

"Alex, they told me you were dead. I've got a job in Baltimore. I have an apartment sorted out." Jack tried to explain, she had grieved for Alex.

Alex studied Jack, she had not touched or attempted to hug him "So no going back to London. I don't really plan to return." Alex tried his best puppy dog look, something that used to work on Jack when he wanted something bad enough, "I thought, maybe I could come stay with you in America."

For once in her life, Jack Starbright was lost for words. She then gathered herself. "Alex you need specialist help. Nursing. You're obviously not well."

"Yeah I have a recurring chest infection courtesy of being water boarded." Alex added as a matter of fact.

"Water Boarded?"

"Think Chinese water torture but with actual drowning. Its lovely." Alex added sarcastically, then quietly added "Jack you don't have to make a split decision. Only if it's a definite no. Tell me now and Dr. Torres can work something else out for me."

"Alex, I'm sorry. I have moved on." Jack was then bluntly honest. "You need someone who'll look after you. I didn't really look after you. We both looked after each other. I was the child sometimes more than you. God Alex I let MI6 use you." She thought guiltily I might well have disabled you myself. "I'm the last person on earth you need right now. You need someone who will fight for you tooth and nail. Someone who will put you first or die to protect you."

Alex deep down always knew Jack was never a mother to him, more a friend than a parent. She had known his relationship with Ian was neglectful at best, but she never said anything. Alex knew he should be angry, but he was too worn out for any intense emotion. He wondered what the future held. He could not stay in Santa Cruz forever. It was a Cuban military hospital. Dr. Torres wanted Alex placed with a family. Alex wanted his beloved Alexei back, telling him everything would be alright, telling him he was a beautiful boy even minus his feet. Singing softly to him to get Alex to sleep after his nightmares. Alexei, who had nursed Alex back to health before reality had hit and destroyed everything. Yassen had come and taught Alex everything he knew about inflicting pain. Yassen had instructed him in a calm intense way in interrogation techniques. This is how Dr. Three had taught Yassen. Yassen had been the victim. He had survived. So had Alex.

Jack stayed in the lounge to think about things. Alex knew she would not change her mind. Looking after old Alex had been easy. Occasional meals. Some cleaning and shopping. Not full time responsibility for an emotionally, physically and psychologically damaged teenager with a permanent disability. It was too much for Jack to take on. Too much for anyone, thought Alex bitterly.

Alex went to his session with Dr Torres and talked about Yassen. Yassen who had tortured Alex for 10 days. Then the russian stated that he had taught Alex all he knew about interrogation. Alex knew he had run out of time and had then asked not to die a virgin. Alex did not tell Dr Torres that he had then babbled about not having had full sex, only wanked people off or given them blow jobs. Yassen had had then asked who he meant by people. That whole encounter was burned into Alex's memory.

Alex had quipped "Well, you killed him." knowing that they had come fully circle to Ian's death.

Yassen had lost composure for the first time in the entire time Alex's had known him as a stream of russian expletives was hissed by the assassin.

Alex was risking antagonising Yassen further, "I want you Yassen. I want you to take, use me, show me what sex is, no matter how brutal or painful. Fuck me Yassen, make me yours completely. Its just a continuation of this isn't it. Just more instruction, more play". Alex then stared at Yassen, whose cold eyes seemed to tear into Alex's very soul.

Yassen then kissed Alex brutally. Possessive and controlling. Alex's lips and tongue were bitten. Pain was expected with Yassen. Alex was hard by the time the kiss finished. Yassen had slowly teased the boys erection and fondled his balls watching Alex's face as he orgasmed. Alex had recovered in Yassen's arms and then Yassen had taken his virginity.

"So Doc. Am I a sick fuck for goading Yassen into fucking me?"

"No, Alex. You played for more time. Time, which allowed you to survive and be rescued. Yassen was going to kill you there and then."

Alex mused on this. Alex had known Alexei had taken to drinking heavily when Yassen had arrived with Scorpia's decision to interrogate Alex. Alex told Yassen everything without need for coercion. Yassen had told Alex there was no rush. Alex had become Yassen's pupil.

Then, the Cubans had come. Alexei had died and Yassen had disappeared. Alex had survived. Alex just lumped the sex in with the torture because really there had not been much difference.

Alex had mused to Dr. Torres "I wonder what Yassen charged. By victim, by the day or the hours spent wringing screams and torment from each poor soul."

"That is a very intriguing question. In the Cuban security services, the interrogators are just salaried, no bonuses for results."

Alex looked at Dr. Torres in a new light. "Do you torture people? Would you have tortured me, if I had not volunteered everything I knew."

"No, I do not interrogate prisoners. I leave that to my collogues in Havana."

Alex then coughed again. The doctor pulled out a stethoscope and listened to Alex's lungs. "You need more antibiotics. I think you need to go to America tonight even without Ms. Starbright's guardianship. There you will get well, truly well and then take each day at a time. You can always come back to Cuba."

Jack looked guilty as she glanced at Alex on the evening flight to Washington DC. Alex traveled with a large ugly nurse. Alex was now on oxygen. Pneumonia was likely.


	3. Chapter 3

Sir Charles Fellows had read the file the Cubans had sent over. He had talked to a Dr. Torres in Cuba and been told Alex was being transferred to medical facilities in the United States. Sir Charles had called up the operations files from MI6. It looked like Alan Blunt had not filed any information about Alex Rider officially on the system. Sir Charles smiled a dangerous smile. Blunt always acted like he was top dog. Sure he got results. He also made monumental fuck ups and Fellows was just about to watch the shit hit the fan. Sir Charles wondered what Mrs. Jones was playing at, using a teenager. John Rider's son at that. Alex Rider would have had training at Brecon. Umm, did the SAS know the teenager was Rider's son? John Rider had been with the regiment during the Falklands war. Unit leader, brave, resourceful and popular before he transferred to MI6 and disappeared, deep undercover in Scorpia. Sir Fellows called for a car. He was going to enjoy this afternoon's unannounced visit to Liverpool Street.

Alan Blunt placed all his current files in his safe as Fellows made his way up to Blunts office. Sir Charles came in unescorted, he looked like the perfect civil servant. Average looking in his fifties, well dressed, good suit. Sir Charles pulled four files from his briefcase after he had sat down. Alan Blunt noted the top file was from Cuban State Security Services. The others from his own filing system, codes for Stormbreaker, Point Blank and Skeleton Key

"So, Alan. How are operations? I hear lots of things are happening to Scorpia. MI5, Special Branch and the CIA liaison have kept me busy lately with Al Queda."

"Yes the Scorpia situation has been on a back burner. Most of our agents are in place in the Middle and Far East at the moment. Jones is in Bangkok at the moment. She should be back by monday."

"Right. Have a read, Alan."

Alan Blunt pulled the top file. "It had already been translated into perfect English."

Alan Blunt read and noted that Alex Rider had survived the incident that had killed the four CIA agents.

Fellows then piped up. "Byrne was visited by Angel Suarez with a copy of that file. Suarez also told him that Alex Rider was tortured personally by a Scorpia operative called Yassen Gregorovich. It was Gregorovich who raped the boy. Personal revenge for John Rider being an MI6 mole."

Sir Charles continued "A 14 year old operative. Disabled during a operation run by an outside agency then left at the tender mercies of terrorists for eleven weeks. The Cubans spent three weeks wringing him dry as well. We are being held up as monsters. If this became public, we would loose all credibility just when we need public support most. I will have to inform the PM. For my sake as well as yours make sure that boy is well looked after. In house if at all possible. If Alex still has ties to SIS we can minimize the possibility of egg on all our faces." Fellows picked up the files and placed them back in his briefcase.

"What do you recommend?" asked a stony faced Blunt.

"Find a family who would be willing to foster Alex. Preferably from your employees. Its your mess, you tidy it up."

Alan Blunt sat and went through his personnel files. Umm, the whiz kid cryptologist had been turned down by social services as a foster parent, too much time spent abroad. Long term partner was an actor, whose father had been in the guards and an equerry to the Queen Mother. Sounds like the right place to start. Offer the cryptologist a place with the tech section. No more fieldwork. Now just to get Rider away from the Americans and Cubans.

Fellows met Colonel Terrance Stephenson at the Army and Navy Club that evening. Stephenson wore the uniform of a paratrooper, but everyone in the service knew he was SAS.

Fellows made small talk over drinks then dropped his bomb shell "Teenager sent over by the Bank to train at Brecon in March. Tell me all you know."

Stephenson had known something was up as there were no casual chats with Sir Charles Fellows. Alan Blunt had obviously been caught doing something even other agents balked at. "Teenage operative. Codename Cub. Sargent thought about 16 or 17, small for his age. Probable MI6 wanted the kid to fit in as cover or for information gathering. General fitness and basic operational training, no firearms, no final parachute jump. Pulled after two weeks. K and L units worked with him during the hostage incident at the school in France. MI6 provided no paperwork, no medical files. No psyche eval. Nothing."

Fellows looked at Stephenson and then added "Alexander John Rider, orphan. 14. Only child of Lt. John Rider, DSC, MC, 2nd battalion paratrooper and SAS, later MI6. Alex has no file in MI6's records. I found one at St. Dominic's. From what I got from Mrs Jones, the boy is a brilliant field agent. Two successful missions, deep cover, with no backup. They lent him out to the CIA Covert Operations. He's been held and tortured by Scorpia for over two months."

The Colonel looked angry. "14 you say. Is the kid sane? In one piece?"

"Alex is doing as well as can be expected. He is now permanently disabled. He was extensively tortured in all ways. I want you to pass that along to everyone at Operations Training, if any other teenagers turn up I expect them to call Social Services right away and tell Blunt to fuck off. I'll keep you posted on Alex's progress, Its early days yet. I spoke to the head psychiatrist at Medical. He said it would be remarkable for him to adapt back into normal life after this."

Sergeant Dixon stood to attention with the other corp Sergeants and the unit commanders currently on base. Colonel Stephenson was making them all sweat. Stephenson had been sent the full operational file for Cub, newly completed by Mrs Jones of MI6 personally, even including all the info from the Cubans and his continued medical file from the US Naval Hospital. "I'm just waiting for Majors Cohen and Pritchard." Let them all think it's a full psyche review. No one liked talking to the shrinks it was just a fact of life in this business. The MO and Psychiatrist arrived.

"At ease everyone, this is going to be painful." The colonel sat down and looked through his current memos, before starting "A full and comprehensive review of operational training procedures is required ASAP. This comes from the PM's office by way of SIS. We, the SAS, participated in one of Alan Blunt's dirty tricks and now we have been called to account for it. We all know Blunt is a grade A bastard, now we are all child abusing creeps as well". Stephenson heard one of the unit commanders say double o nothing under his breath.

"Yes, Wolf. Cub or as you put it Double o nothing has come back to haunt us. That child is 14 and will for the rest of his life be receiving a full in service pension benefits for being permanently disabled during an operation. Most unusual, if he had been an adult caught and injured during one of Blunts highly illegal operations, everyone would have denying he existed with no benefits what so ever. However Cub, was lent out to the Yanks and Scorpia got their hands on him. Imagine it. Tortured physically, mentally, emotionally and then sexually for weeks. Something the kid has had no training to deal with". The colonel paused to let that information sink in. The Colonel saw Wolf almost loose composure.

"So we are going to review our procedures. No operative will ever be accepted into training here without a full file, personnel, medical and psychological. I do not care is any of the creeps at SIS say it's a favour. No paperwork no acceptance. No operative is to pass unless they have passed training to our satisfaction. No operative is to be accepted who is under 18. And for the record, Cub is a teenage boy. A fourteen year old. He was blackmailed by Alan Blunt after the death of his uncle, who happened to die during one of Blunts highly illegal operations. That kid arrived here grieving for the only family he knew and was abused here. Yes gentlemen. It was child abuse. AND IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN. AM I CLEAR".

"Yes Sir!."

"Right. Full operations review will start tomorrow and I want all reports on our lack of procedures and any recommendations on my desk by Monday. By next Friday I want a new cross checked, water tight training plan and paper trail for all the monkeys SIS send us. We will corroborate all their medicals or psyche profiles. So, before any operative trains here they are cleared as fit by us. Just in case they try and fool us with forgeries. Do not trust SIS. Not after this. Ok gentlemen, Dismissed."

Sergeant Dixon came to the front after the room cleared. "Cub was John Rider's boy wasn't he."

"Yes Sergeant. You knew John Rider?"

"Yes I met him in 1987 after his extraction from Scorpia. I was just on guard duty at the safe house. He was a good man, told me his wife had just had a kid. Cub looks just like him."

"Scorpia did a real number on Alex. The Cuban Psychiatrist thought the kid would be a nutcase after they found him. God, Harry. Look at he photos the cubans sent over. The Colonel pulled out the file. Large colour photos showed almost every part of Alex's body covered in welts, bruises, burns, scrapes and gashes. My son is fifteen. He's all football, girls and awful music. Alex has no one. He's been in hospital for five weeks. God help him."

"So who tortured him."

"Scorpia operative called Yassen Gregorovich. That bastard is now no. 1 on the SAS hit list."

"Is Alex at St Dominics?" asked the Sargent.

"No still in the US. Naval Hospital in DC. He might stay over there. Everyone is making damn sure the kid gets the best placement and treatment from now on."

"So how is he disabled. Spinal fracture?" Dixon asked thinking of the kid that had never backed down and been cheeky with it, even when hazed and bullied almost continually by his team mates.

"No double amputee. Lost his feet, poor kid. He wanted to be a professional footballer."

Sergeant Dixon walked over to a visibly upset Wolf smoking outside. Wolf got more details about Cub from Sargent Dixon. Wolf felt like a complete bastard. He slowly walked back to barracks. He'd told Snake and Eagle about meeting Cub in France. How the hell was he going to break the news Cub was 14, disabled and a bloody basket case, thanks to MI6 and the CIA. Lynx who had transferred in to replace Fox thought Cub was an urban myth. Before he knew it Wolf was at the barrack block.

"What shit has hit the fan to have all non emergency operations and training be put on hold."

"Full operations and training procedures review starting at 8 tomorrow. I guess you'll all be twiddling you're thumbs. I've got news about Cub. His dad was SAS."

"Was?"

"Died in 1987. Cub was 3 months old."

Snake did the maths. "Cub's 14. You told us he was part of that MI6 job you did in April. Thats so fucking wrong!"

"Yeah tell me about it." the shock over how young Cub actually was had just sunk in.

"He's died hasn't he?" asked a withdrawn and thoughtful Eagle.

"No. Death would have been kinder. Cub was captured by Scorpia in July. He now in hospital in Washington recovering."

"Jesus. Scorpia?" Snake had heard of that bunch of bastards.

"Yep." replied Wolf tersely.

"Is he OK?" asked Eagle.

"No. He survived. But Cub is a long way from OK."


	4. Chapter 4

Alex had done five lengths of the pool and was knackered. Medical Technician Valdez was encouraging Alex to pull himself out of the pool. Alex was still very wary of putting pressure on his stumps. He would have to haul himself up and at the moment he was exhausted. Hernando Valdez was standing with his towel and leg socks waiting for him. It took Alex two tries but he made it out of the pool. The enthusiastic nurse encouraged Alex with "You were fantastic Al. Just remember to relax your stroke, stretch and grab the water. Improve your arm technique for better results, OK."

Alex nodded and was soon dry and now had the problem of standing using two false legs. It was all in the balance. Good leg then horrid leg. His right leg was amputated at his ankle and was longer and stronger than his left, with only a short stump just below the knee. Alex only remembered snippets of the accident. Jumping in the water to escape the Scorpia operatives had cost him his legs. He'd been rescued rather than captured. If he'd stayed in the water he'd have bled to death.

Alex felt like an outsider even here. Everyone was kind and supportive. Even the physio who was a complete bastard to everyone else. Alex got that it was hard work to be able to walk around and that every step was painful. Swimming and weight training were to help with core stability and a strong body and upper legs made everything else easier. He had to watch out for a recurrence of the pneumonia. His lungs would recover. He was young. He had tried different sports here. Archery, wheelchair racing and basket ball. Alex wanted to get out of the chair as much as possible. He bore the discomfort of wearing his prosthetics. Off he wobbled to his placement meeting. Some prospective foster parents were here for initial evaluation.

Jonathan Smith had persuaded his partner of 15 years to come and meet Alex. Jon wanted to be a father desperately. Fostering had been something they had both discussed. A disabled child needed love and care, it did not matter on the gender or sexual orientation of the caregivers. They could both work part time. In fact, Tony rested rather than worked and a break from operations would be just the thing for Jon.

Alex went to Lionel's office, Lionel was his current shrink. Alex had asked for lessons in being a normal and Lionel had obliged with a humorous slide show of proper teenage behaviour. Alex was too controlled, too quiet and observing of his surroundings. Alex's stubbornness for doing things alone sprang not from an overwhelming desire to achieve independence but the fact he wanted no one to touch him.

Tony Fletcher was a handsome man and he used it to his advantage on many occasions. He had smiled at the nurse at reception and she had swooned. Movie star good looks. Jon had met him during his undergrad days in London. It had been lust at first sight. Jon had moved in to Tony's place within a week of meeting him. Jon's family had gone ape shit when he told them he had moved in with a bloke. He had not spoken to his parents or brothers since. Tony's father had liked Jon straight away. Colonel George Carruthers Fletcher, was the exact opposite of Jon's working class father: upper class, charming, open and loving. The old soldier had helped Jon find employment with GCHQ, get his PhD and from there he had gone into operations.

Alex was nervous, he sat biting his nails as the two men were shown in. Alex recognized the handsome bearded dark haired man. "Umm weren't you in Cabin Monsters."

"Oh my God a fan" stated the other man with a smile.

"Yes, Tony Fletcher, Anthony Carruthers Fletcher, Actor Singer Dancer and my partner Jonathan Xavier Smith. Pleased to meet you Alex."

Lionel was pleasantly surprised, he had expected Alex to remain silent.

"So why weren't you in the sequel?"

"I was on stage at the time. Children of a Lesser God." Tony signed this at the same time.

Alex then signed back. _You should have done the sequel. The guy in it could not act for toffee_.

"You can sign?" Asked Jon

"Yes I lost my voice when I was eight. Ian was stuck looking after me and taught me sign language." Alex frowned thinking about Ian. Signing had been just another skill for Alex to master.

"So Ian was your former caregiver." stated Tony.

"Yeah I suppose you could call him that, if you were feeling generous. So how much have they told you about me." Alex asked, thinking about what bullshit had been spread about him.

"Quite a lot. In fact I've got Most Secret security clearance which helps. Derek sends his regards by the way." added Jon.

"Derek?" Alex could not remember ever meeting a Derek

"Smithers, Irish chap, Ordnance and Technology section. I work in signals and cryptology. We meet occasionally for drinks and chess."

"I like Smithers. He's cool." Alex said remembering his short meetings with the technical genius.

"He talks highly of you," added Jon.

Alex's face darkened and he growled "The rest at the bank are real cunts."

"Language Alex." The psychiatrist piped in.

"Fuck off, Doc." And then Alex smiled.

"I see my lessons in how to act like a normal teenager have paid off." quipped the shrink.

"So whats cryptology? The study of mummies?" asked Alex sarcastically, already knowing the answer.

"No code breaking and code development. Mostly computer programming. Really boring." Jon said. His cover stated he was a numbers man, not that he sat in god forsaken places all over the world and broke computer codes, working with teams of agents, soldiers and special forces.

Alex looked at both men. "So you're both queer?"

"Yes we've lived together for fifteen years."

Alex was genuinely shocked, "Christ! you don't look old enough to be my parents."

"Yes, Tony believes in a healthy lifestyle." Alex could see from the look on Jon's face that he sneaked out for beer, burgers, chips and curry.

"Health is important. My mother died when I was fifteen. I was devastated. It made me closer to my father. He had been distant and cold before then." Tony mused before asking, "So Alex what do you like at school? Are you into sports? What are your hobbies?"

"Umm, Maths and modern languages are my favourite subjects at school. I was centre forward of the year nine football team at school and I'm a 1st dan black belt in karate. I like reading, anything really. I love horror movies, the cheesier the better. Zombie ones are the best. Vampire ones are OK. Werewolf nahh. My best friend at school is Tom Harris, he likes Zombie movies as well."

"So do you want to live in London again."

"Ideally, I want to go back to my old school, Brookland, The tutors here have been great, but I miss my second rate London comprehensive."

"Brookland. No way!" stated Jon shocked, "I graduated there in 1985."

"You went to Brookland? Was Scott teaching geography then?" Alex thinking of the oldest member of staff.

"Scott the most boring man in the universe. Yes he taught me. Miss Bedfordshire?"

"Still school secretary. She'd nice." Not that Alex thought she was old, she just was always there, nice to everyone.

"OMG time twins". Gasped Tony

Both Jon and Alex then went "Shut up" and laughed.

"So what do you think?" said Jon, apprehensive of the reply from his partner. Tony had been quiet since they had left the hospital.

"As first meetings go, it was good, better than good. I find it hard to equate that bright, sarcastic boy with the file I read." Tony had been horrified on what the child had suffered. The file he had read had been cleared of all operational details, but the medical facts spoke for themselves. The social worker in London had told them straight if they took Alex on, they had to expect big problems. He would likely be a very angry, frustrated, depressed and possibly suicidal young man. A lot had happened to Alex, he was still rolling with the punches of what life had thrown at him. Alex would test boundaries and put strains on their own relationship. A child was a 100%, 24/7 commitment.

"His eyes were so sad, Jonny. His facade was almost perfect, but he has suffered horribly." Tony paused, meeting the child had torn at him, he had wanted there and then to hug Alex, because it looked like no one had ever loved him unconditionally. "Lets see how tomorrow goes, but my gut feeling is he is the right kid for us. If we go ahead I will not settle for fostering, we put in the papers for adoption as soon as we are agreed and get the green light."

Jon smiled, Tony had just stated everything he had thought himself. Jon had talked to Derek Smithers before they had flown over. Smithers had said much that was left out of the paperwork. Jon had not met Ian Rider, but Derek had. Smithers had told Jon what a controlling, self righteous SOB Ian had been.

Lionel Herman had sent through a glowing positive response about the foster parents approved by London. The couple were unusual in the extreme, gay and in a long term committed relationship. Both had passed SIS's security screens. Everything checked out according to the quick sweep done by the CIA section in London. Lionel had said Alex really got on well with both of them.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Alex had his third shrink in two months. Rick Montrose was a former Army Doctor, he had worked with disabled soldiers and torture victim's. He had volunteered with Medicine San Frontiers in Central Africa for five years. He had categorised Alex as a child soldier. Like the children in Africa orphaned, disabled, tortured and raped.

Alex quickly settled in to his strange new home. Tony's house was a converted industrial building in Lambeth. He'd bought it for a pittance in the early 1980's when he was a student at the Central School of Speech and Drama. Tony had done a lot of the conversion work himself. Two storeys and a large roof garden. First floor was Tony's and Jon's bedroom, three guest bedrooms and the large entertaining area. The kitchen on the ground floor had a dining area, den and exercise room. Alex's bedroom was on the ground floor, next to Tony's office. Alex had an en-suite with adapted shower and hand rails. A wider than average bed. And lots of floor space in case he needed to use his wheelchair.

There was a metal internal staircase to the first floor. But the ground floor was the main living space. Alex had a computer in his room and also new clothes, books and music.

Tony pushed Alex to school in his wheelchair. Alex was still bone tired from jet lag, underweight and he looked frail. There was a blanket on his lap and legs as the early December morning was damp and cold. The cold made Alex's legs throb with pain, making Alex look grey and drawn.

The first problem was the school steps. Alex got out of the wheelchair and accepted help from Jon. Alex saw the Year Seven kids were watching him as he slowly negotiated the four steps. The chair was manhandled up and Alex then resettled in it.

"Hello Alex. Welcome back." Stated Miss Bedfordshire warmly. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Umm I'd love a cup of black tea."

"And Mr Fletcher, Mr. Smith can I get you anything?" asked the school secretary, but both politely refused.

Mr Bray came into his office expecting to see the same athletic boy from the previous three years. He was a visibly shocked. "Oh! I was not told you were in a wheelchair, Alex."

"I'm just really tired today. Most days I get around fine. Its hard work with the prosthetics but I can walk just fine." explained Alex, knowing that Brookland had no wheelchair provision. The options had already been stated with a meeting at Lambeth Social Services when Alex first arrived back in London. If Brookland was not suitable, Alex would be a day pupil at St. Saviours' Boys School, two miles away but fully adapted for disabled children.

Umm Jon piped in "Lambeth Council have promised Alex a full time assistant to begin with to help him get around and carry things for him. He took his educational tests in Washington and should fit right back in with his Year Ten Classmates." Mr. Bray knew he should have read the Alex's file in more detail, the explanation of months in hospital was as far as the teacher had got. He'd been expecting Alex to have had a short stay at a Young Offender's Unit considering his behaviour in the last two terms of Year 9.

"So. What happened Alex?" the teacher asked.

Alex took a deep breath and got on with the cover story. "I was placed with new foster parents during the summer holidays, we went on holiday to Cuba. There was a boating accident. Belinda and Tom died. I was hurt, my right foot and lower left leg had to be amputated. I got a post op infection and was in ICU and high dependency care for a month. There was problems with my status in Cuba. It could have been a real diplomatic incident. I should not have left California and the Cuban Social Services had US and British Embassies to deal with to sort the whole mess out. I was looked after by some lovely people on Cuba and I was offered the chance of staying there. Then I got double pneumonia last month, I went to Washington DC as a medical emergency." Alex had barely breathed as he blurted out his cover story. "Umm Tony and Jon are my new foster parents."

Mr. Bray looked at the two men. He'd heard of Lambeth's fairly open fostering policy, not that he agreed with it, but it looked like Alex was settled. "Ok any other concerns, the school should be aware of."

"Alex has physiotherapy once a week and therapy twice a week. He is on anti depressants, twice daily, which he will take at home. Alex will be carrying tranquilizers, and only takes them if he needs to, or if you think he needs to"

"Therapy?"

"Grief therapy and Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. For Ian and the Gardiner's deaths. Alex had been quite down since the accident as well. He's had a lot to deal with. His T cell count is still on the low side. So he's likely to miss school with every illness making the rounds. His stomach is weak and he could vomit for England at the moment." Alex's prolonged bouts of vomiting had meant a visit to St. Dominic's and a foodintolerance was suspected

"Shut Up!" stated an embarrassed Alex.

Jon smiled at Alex's outburst but still continued "We hope Alex can use the School Pool for swimming. He was swimming every day in Washington."

"Umm I'm sure he could swim whenever he likes. The assistant from the council will supervise this as well?" Bray asked taking notes.

"Maybe we are still arguing over hours. Swimming is good for core strength, something Alex lacks after three months in hospital."

Jon then added "Alex is looking forward to starting school again in the new year."

I'll have discussions with Louisa At Lambeth Social Services. I'm glad Alex wants to come back. For two and a half years he was a model pupil. The hiccups last year are understandable due to his uncle dying" Mr Bray did not add about his thoughts on the parenting skills, or lack of, displayed by Ms. Jack Starbright. That woman had no idea where the boy was half the time, and made up pathetic excuses of various illnesses. "I'm sure we can get all the details worked out, in the mean time. Alex will be most welcome back".

It was lunch time when they left. Tom Harris was standing outside Mr Brays office when Alex emerged. The news had flown around school that Alex had returned looking like a ghost and in a wheelchair.

"Hey Tom." Alex shifted uncomfortably and fidgeting with his blanket.

"Hey Alex, I heard a rumour that Druggie Rider was back." asked the black haired boy who seemed to have grown into a giant during the six months Alex had been away.

"I'm back, I'm bad." Alex stated without enthusiasm.

"So what happened. You disappeared before the summer hols. No phone calls no postcards. Forget I existed did you?"

"Umm Tom. Is it?" Jon cut in. "Can you come visit Alex later. He needs to get home, eat and rest. Come by after school. 155 Christchurch Road."

"Sure See you later Alex." Tom was still in two minds whether to go or not to bother.

Tom arrived outside the weirdest looking house. He could have sworn it was a factory. He was faced by a high brick wall with razor wire on the top. There was an intercom. Tom was buzzed straight in. There were two nice cars in the yard, in front of a former works. Alex's new parents were obviously quite well off. It was a far cry from the council maisonette Tom lived in. The large kitchen opened onto an area with a large sofa, a smaller sofa and a huge TV, and home cinema system. There was a poster for Cabin Monsters on the wall. Alex was asleep on the sofa.

"So Tom, can I get you milk or orange juice. We even have coca cola in the house. The one drink Alex does not puke up." stated to slim, tall brown haired man wearing jogging bottoms and a Cambridge Uni T-shirt.

"Coke please. So Alex has been really ill?" Tom did not really belive it. Alex had not been ill the previous year. Just been in fights by the look of him.

"Really ill, he's still quite weak at the moment. Traveling back from the states has completely knocked him for six. He'll get better. He needs rest, good food and exercise."

"Oh like football"

Tom was cut off when, In a firm low voice, Jon commanded, "No, you are not allowed to mention football."

It was then that Tom noted the two prosthetic legs by the sofa. "Oh Christ. What the fuck happened"

"Boating accident. Double amputation. Alex nearly died from a post op infection. He had pneumonia last month. They got that straight away with very strong antibiotics. Hospitals in the US are the best in the world. He's lucky to be alive."

"Jesus. We all thought he was faking his absences last year." Tom suddenly looked down, regretful of his doubts about his best friend. He'd only come over to tell Alex to get lost and the James and Dean were who Tom hung out with now.

Jon continues "Grief affects everyone differently. The doc in the US thought Alex might have leukemia." Another half truth, they had all suspected Alex had HIV/AIDS but that little fact was in Alex's top secret medical file. "His T-cell count is low. First Ian dying, then his foster parents died in the boating accident. Jack was offered his guardianship full time but she bailed."

Tom had wondered about Jack, she had been trying to get custody of Alex but had major problems with her visa and residency, "Jack left him? The bitch."

"He needs full time care at the moment. He'll recover eventually. With recovery will come other problems."

"Like what?"

"The psychological damage caused by watching people die and almost dying himself. He was just beginning to bond with his foster parents when the accident happened. He will likely be a bloody nightmare, but we will get through it and Alex will recover, evolve, cope and thrive. He'll need his friends."

Tom blushed at that statement "Ohh. Well I was the only one left talking to him last year. Even James thought he was a weirdo. Everyone said he was doing drugs."

"So taking antidepressants is doing drugs is it. He's still on antidepressants and is likely to be taking them for a while. The boat accident is something he's still dealing with. I won't tell you want I think about Jack. She took one look at him in hospital and bailed. Well, when the going gets tough you find out who your true friends are."

Tom then decided he really like Jon, bent or not, This bloke was good for Alex, a proper Dad. "You sound like your talking from experience."

Jon almost sneered "When I came out. Most of my friends and family told me to fuck off. My Aunt Silvia stuck by me and three of my uni buddies did. The rest were complete tossers."

"Alex was my only friend in Year 7 and 8. Then I made the football team and people who wouldn't give me the time of day suddenly talked to me and exactly the opposite happened to Alex after Ian died. Kids are bastards sometimes." A strange understanding had come over Tom. Alex was still Alex. Friends were friends. He'd stick it out even if Alex was a complete nut job.

"Ohh Alex is waking up." stated Jon suddenly.

Tom looked at the unmoving prone figure on the sofa and questioned "How can you tell?".

"His breathing changed." was said in a quiet voice by Jon and then louder he spoke to Alex "Afternoon Al, Tom is here. I'll leave you guys to hang out. There are rice crackers in the cupboard and mung bean salad in the fridge if you are hungry."

Tom looked at Jon like he was talking a foreign language. Jon just smiled and went upstairs.

Alex had sat up and was smiling. "Yeah, Tony is a health food nut. There's also brown bread and peanut butter, organic of course as well."

"No chips?" Christ maybe Alex's foster parents were just too weird thought Tom, a life without junk food would be hell on earth for him. Then again Jack had been fucking weird as well.

Alex cheerily told his friend as he put on his false legs "Chips, crisps and sweets are forbidden and the work of the devil. I have been brainwashed completely by Tony into his weird super healthy lifestyle."

"So its worse than Jacks cooking?" Tom deadpanned.

"No not that bad." When Jack had first started working for Ian she had burnt instant noodles. "I made the bread by the way. Tony read an article that baking was good for getting over psychological trauma."

"Bullshit!" exclaimed the dark haired boy.

"My words exactly." laughed Alex.

Tom was now seriously worried by Alex's new parents "You'll be telling me that the top of the range TV had children's controls and we can only watch CBeebies."

"No I can even watch porn. Not that I want to. Its just too bad to contemplate." Alex had noted all the channels were completely unrestricted.

"What really?" Tom looked astonished.

"Awful scripts, bad acting. Its like drama club at school." Alex did not tell Tom that he didn't need to watch porn as his dreams and nightmares were full of memories of the real thing.

Tom had seen a strange blank look cross Alex's face. No Alex was not OK. Still Alex but different, "So how are you really Alex?

"OK, its better now I have Tony and Jon. They care. I had to nearly die to get a proper family."

"Proper? Gay parents like something out of a bad sitcom."

"Well I'm surprised Tony isn't writing it now." quipped Alex.

"He's a writer?"

"No actor. Cabin Monsters. Cop Chop." Tony in the early 1990's had made a series of very low budget slasher horror movies with a group of friends. They had became underground favourites of British teenagers. Bad sets, terrible effects but the scripts and acting made the most of the tongue in cheek humour.

Tom finally connected the handsome stranger he had met briefly this morning to his battered video collection "OMG!"

"Yeah all our favourites." smiled Alex. Alex had watched them all with Tom. Bad horror movies were one of the long list of things not approved of by Ian Rider.

"You lucky bastard. He played the best evil overlord ever. Dr Kurt Hymen in Spy Kill." Tom blurted out. Then it clicked "He's mummy isn't he."

"Yes. Totally and absolutely lovely. My mummy is the mutant cyborg." Then Alex laughed.

After Alex had recovered from his fit of laughter Tom whispered "So why can't I mention football?"

"Ohh, one of the nurses' in DC found out I was a big Chelsea fan. He got a video of the lastest game and put it on for me. Well, I had a bit of a freaky because it kind of hit me there and then that I'd never be able to play again. I wanted... you know ... to play professionally. Well, my freaky was a bit violent. Jon and Tony walked in on two nurses restraining me and the doc sedating me. So no talk of football."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

That night Alex had the mother of all nightmares with the half remembered aborted escape attempt and the attack of the shark. The screaming filled the house. Alex ended up sleeping between the two men. Tony had sung the boy back to sleep.

Swimming in the morning had half the old ladies of Lambeth and Clapham staring at the cripple. Alex swam further than ever and even did a length of butterfly. It was crap and exhausting but he enjoyed it. Then the local junior school came in, Alex had been changing in the communal area when one of the annoying shrimps had asked if he was an alien because of his black metal legs. Alex did not see the point of fake flesh coloured ones, in fact they had kind of creeped him out. The metal ones were functional and told everyone he was an amputee, no bones about it.

Life proceeded with coursework tutored by Tony and Jon, swimming with Jon and all of them working weights. Tony planned a quiet family Christmas, with homemade presents and an organic vegetarian dinner. Alex thought it sounded perfect. Then Tony's brother rang. Peter was a successful property developer with trophy second wife and a love of large New Years Eve Parties. It seemed like everyone went. Tony and Jon were expected.

"Can I stay at home. I want to eat popcorn and watch all your crappy movies Tony."

"So like any other day of the week then." Jon stated as Alex was currently watching Cop Chop. One of Jon's fsavoutites as Tony looked fantastic as the Highway Patrol officer fighting oof the zombie hoard. Jon then kissed Tony sloppily and whispered in Tony's ear. Alex rolled his eyes as the two disappeared upstairs. Alex's pre christmas TV viewing was disturbed by the intercom. Alex slid across the floor to the console, he could just reach the control from his knees. It was Dylan, Tony's agent.

He came in like it was his home and stared at Alex who was back slobbing out which meant his legs were on the floor by the sofa.

The clipped camp voice enquired "Oh you're Alexander?"

"Yep Alex to my friends."

"So where are Tony and Jon?" asked the agent. Surely the boy was not home alone.

"Upstairs screwing." said the boy not looking around from the TV which occupied his full attention

"Right, Tony has not brought up bad language then." The older man stated crossly, annoyed at what a cheeky child

"No, he thinks all self expression is positive." Alex looked at the stranger with you don't know shit expression.

Dylan tried a different tack, "The two of them copulating does not upset you?"

"No. They're pretty sweet actually." Alex mused on the strange times the two disappeared. They both kept open displays of affection to a minimum but they were not backward in their obvious mutual attraction. To still be like that after fifteen years. Jack had been lucky to keep a boyfriend for two weeks and Ian just didn't do affection period. Alex had no basis for normal. He knew he himself was fucked up beyond any spectrum of normal and still Tony and Jon accepted him.

Dylan was growing annoyed why had the boy not just gone and got Tony. "So you're an expert on happy families?" he asked pointedly.

Alex with open hostility glared and stated "No far from it, I ticked all the boxes on the social workers questionnaire. Disabled, neglected, emotionally, physically and sexually abused" and as if an after thought Alex added "And I've been in trouble with the police, twice."

Jon appeared at the top of the stairs pulling on his T-shirt "Hello Dylan. Annoying Alex I see. I thought you only enjoyed annoying me."

"Ahh Jon darling. How is the new mummy?" Dylan smiled at Jon. Dylan had been Tony's best friend for over twenty five years. He had dismissed Jon as a straight boy having a bi-curious moment when Tony and Jon started living together, but it had proved to be true love. Even now, so in love and parents.

"Asleep. What were you talking about Alex?" Jon was curious to see what faux pas Dylan had touched on to annoy passive, quiet Alex.

"My status as a problem child and my police record." Alex stated quite proudly.

"Excellent, Alex. Talking about your problems is the start of solving them." Jon answered in a cheerful sarcastic tone.

Upping the ante, Alex stated "I plan to reintroduce myself to my class at Brookland with how I was taught to lie, cheat and steal by my uncle."

Dylan watched the banter between Alex and Jon with growing horror. Oh how he would gossip when he left. Tony's foster son was such an interesting boy. Tony already adored him.

"So what do you want Dylan?" Jon asked not really wanting to disturb sleeping beauty upstairs. Jon wanted another round of sex before dinner, then it would be a perfect Sunday afternoon.

"Tony hasn't called about work for two months. If I didn't meet for coffee once a week I would think he was dead. I have a film part for him. Spielberg. He's perfect."

"I'll go get him. Alex go get dressed, we'll go to the cinema while they talk shop." jon already knew Tony would take the part. He'd moan and gossip with Dylan for hours about work now, over several bottles of wine or champagne.

Tony stated he did not want to work, family commitments, but he took the part. In three weeks he would be working long hours. The originally cast actor had pulled out. Tony was a last minute replacement. Tony picked up quite a bit of work that way, as he was always eager to work. No actor except those who were popular and powerful enough could pick and choose.

Alex thought it had been the best Christmas ever. Family together, both men doting on Alex. They had brought in the bay tree from the yard and covered it with hand made decorations. Alex had discovered cooking and loved it. Everyone filled in suggestions and the slips of paper were pulled out of a genuine top hat, so games and activities each of them enjoyed were all attempted. Charades and Karaoke had been a scream. Alex had surprised them both with his clear lovely singing voice. Jon could not even hold a rhythm or a tune and Tony was fantastic. Jon had suggested science experiments and the Royal Institution Lectures were watched and Alex asked to play monopoly marathons and lost spectacularly to the maths genius.

Alex had a major strop on the day of the family party. Tony talked long and gently to the boy as they both sat on Alex's bed. "Feeling alienated and alone, today, poppet? Its perfectly natural to want us both to yourself. Especially with me starting work in a couple of weeks. Its only four or five days work and Jon will be home full time. He can even drop you and pick you up from school."

"I have a taxi booked from social services." Alex hated the fact he could no longer cycle to school.

"How about we sign across the room during the party. Just a little conversation between ourselves. My no. 1 boy."

Alex smiled accepting the hug from Tony.

The first thing Alex did when they arrived at the large house in Hampstead was head to the beautifully catered buffet table. Across the room Tony signed reminding him about the list of all the things that made him throw up. No chocolate, no milk, no cheese, no cream and no butter. Alex thought so Tony is allowing me to eat meat. Umm. Alex helped himself to crisps and sandwiches marked as vegan and then went in search of a seat. He ended up sitting on the stairs. Two girls dressed in evening dresses made fun of his jeans, t-shirt and trainers. Alex then pulled up his jeans to show off his black metal prosthetic legs. One of the girls gasped then the other pipped up. "So your Uncle Tony's foster son. I'm Michaela and this is Patricia. We're your foster cousins."

"Umm hello, I'm Alex. Soon to be adopted son of Tony and Jon." saidAlex between mouthfuls.

"Adopted?" queried Patricia.

"Paperwork went in last month. Court date at the end of January." Alex had been surprised and moved to tears by that particular Christmas Present.

"That's quick." added Michaela.

"Part of the deal hammered out with the American Family Court." The wheels of the Federal Government had all but rubber stamped the adoption. High up everything was being done to erase the unfortunate incident in Cuba.

"American?" Said both girls at the same time.

"My previous foster parents were Americans. They died last July. I'd been with them three weeks." Alex continued to eat crisps. Then asked "So is it all ballroom dancing and polite conversation?" The girls were dressed like it they were expecting Mr Darcy.

"No, we could swim in the pool, play video games or snooker. My favourite is walking around and criticizing everyones dress sense. So grunge boy what do you think?" the elder more vocal girl suggested and smiled for the first time. Obviously deciding Alex was not a threat.

"Swim, but I don't have any trunks."

The ever practivcal Michaela quickly solved that particular problem "You can borrow a pair of dad's. Come on. Last one in is a killer mutant zombie."

So the girls liked Tony's films as well, thought Alex.

Other kids arrived and joined the pool party. It was much more fun than Alex thought it would be. He found out Tony's nieces lived with their mother and went to Cheltenham Ladies College. Alex got out of the pool when he felt like a prune. We wandered through the rooms looking for Tony or Jon. The girls and the other kids had liberated a chocolate cake and were demolishing it like savages. Tony was in the hall with his brother discussing Alex.

"So why not send him to Eton. It did the both of us the world of good." the stranger queried.

Tony answered "Alex wants to go back to his old school. Its Jon's alma mater as well. It has a pool and is willing to take Alex even with his problems."

Alex coughed then.

"Come and meet your uncle, sweetie." Tony said warmly, his face lighting up when he noticed Alex.

Alex looked at the man, similar to Tony, larger, balder and not as cute, but definitely brothers and said a wary "Hello".

"My, he's a heart breaker." Peter said looking at the petite, thin, teenager with blond hair and large brown eyes. The child did not look old enough to be nearly fifteen. Alex looked puzzled by Peter's comments.

Tony had moved to place his hand on Alex's shoulder to reassure him, after noticing the boy tense up. "Yes Alex is a handsome boy. Bright and stubborn."

"Chip of the old block then. I was quite shocked when you said you were proceeding with the adoption straight away, but parenthood suits you." Peter then turned his attention back to his new nephew "So, Alex do you like my girls?"

"They're fun. But they don't understand why I don't eat chocolate cake." Alex knew he could eat it its just the projectile vomiting afterwards totally sucked.

Tony smiled "Good boy Alex. Are you still hungry?"

"No. Tired." even after two months recuperation, Alex tired really easily.

Peter lead Alex to his office. Alex lay down on the sofa and was asleep in minutes even with the sounds of the party in the background. The next thing Alex knew, Jon was tracing circles on his palm. It was Jon's way of waking Alex guaranteed not to freak Alex out. Its five to midnight. "Come and see 2002 in with your new family."

Alex was handed a small glass of champagne and the seconds counted down. After the hugs, kisses and singing Alex went back to his quiet spot. He woke in the morning to find someone had removed his trousers, redressed him in shorts and removed his prosthetic legs and covered him in a blanket. It turned out the sofa was actually a sofa bed. Alex was always going to sleep in the office, rather than make him climb stairs.

It was a family breakfast. The breakfast was a buffet again in the formal dining room. The house had already been tidied.

They were off to the Golf Club for new years day lunch. Smart casual dress. Alex was wearing a polo shirt, a sweater and bermuda shorts. He was showing off his smart designer legs supplied by the Americans.

The golf club was full of diners, it was a popular place to celebrate the new year. Bucks fizz and orange juice were handed out as you arrived. One of the diners paid particular attention to the blond boy with prosthetic legs, emotionless face and sad brown eyes. Even without the view of the legs, Sir Charles Fellows would have recognised John Rider's son. Alex really was the picture of his father. Sir Charles was sat with his own family. He lived two doors down from Peter Fletcher and they occasionally played golf. Charles nodded a greeting to Peter across the room. He noted the boy had scanned all the diners and staff, had noted the exits and had picked a seat with a good view of the room and with space to maneuver. The boy was instinctively taking everything in, before he picked up his menu and a typical teenage sneer appeared on his face.

Alex read the menu. It was in French, how fucking pretentious. The head waiter had the distinctive tones of a Swiss french speaker. Alex then asked in perfect french what the maitre'd recommended and then apologised and listed all of his dietary restrictions. The vegetarian option was in a cream sauce so Alex could not eat it. Alex had not eaten much at breakfast, just some grilled tomatoes and dry toast. He was now ravenous.

The maitre'd came back and spoke of plain cooked chicken breast or a grilled steak or salmon with steamed vegetables. Alex looked at Tony, who smiled and in French told Alex to have the steak. Pure protein was good for a growing boy. The rest ordered from the menu. Alex then thanked the maitre'd and said the chef was very kind. A plain green salad with toasted pine nuts was served to Alex as a starter. It was delicious. The desserts looked fabulous. Alex asked for some plain strawberries. There were even petit fours after the cheese board. God, Alex missed cheese. When it was served Alex went for a walk. It was too tempting. Stilton and stinking bishop. He wanted to eat it all.

Alex looked at golf clubs and bad clothing. "Do you play?" asked a man dressed in a linen jacket and polo shirt similar to Alex's own. Alex remembered that he had been sitting in the dining room with a blond woman and two teenage children, boy and girl.

"I've played a couple of rounds. It wasn't really my thing. I prefer active sports, rock climbing, diving, mountain biking. Lately its been archery and swimming".

"I find golf relaxing. I play here regularly, so does Peter. I'm Peter's neighbour, Charles Fellows. You should try lots of sports. I took up golf after I bust my knee in the Falklands."

"You were in the army?" The man looked like a maths teacher, not a bit like any of K Unit.

"Paras. I'm now a Civil Servant, waiting to collect my pension." The man smiled. "I better get back in, Coffee is being served."

Alex was then offered a try out of some of the clubs by one of the staff. One practice swing and Alex was on the floor, winded and embarrassed. He picked himself up, after glaring at the assistant who attempted to help Alex up, and tried again. He concentrated on centering himself and he slowly went through the swing. He felt his left leg give again as he tried to pivot, he wobbled, took two steading steps but stayed upright. I think its going to take some practice before I can hit a ball.


	7. Chapter 7

School, why had Alex wanted to come back to school. People in general stared and gossiped and his classmates ignored him like he didn't exist. His assistant from social services was a straight out of uni, Gabby Christian. She was blond, plump and bubbly. So very up all the time. She made Tom seem emo. Tom took one look at Alex's pack lunch and put a hand on his shoulder and said poor you. Buckwheat noodles, tofu and mange tout in miso was definitely the weirdest lunch in the whole school. Tom offered Alex chip's but Alex just ate his super healthy pack lunch and smiled. By the end of the first day, Alex's stumps were sore and chaffed. He was looking forward to swimming before going home for dinner. Alex noted the local swim club practice started after Alex's allotted hour. Swimming at school was better than the three mile trip to Clapham to the local leisure centre. The coach watched the lone swimmer in the pool. Alex swam for 45 minutes lap after lap. He finished with two lengths of butterfly. He then hauled himself out of the pool. The coach handed over Alex's towel.

"Thanks." said Alex. The man watched Alex dry off and put on his legs. Respecting Alex's space, not bugging him with offers of help.

The man then stated "You swim well. Your backstroke and butterfly need work. Technique is everything." befire adding "I coach an S5 boy here on Saturdays."

Alex looked puzzled was this code "S5?"

Bill smiled at Alex's ignorance "Mark has cerebral palsy."

"So what am I?" Alex asked not knowing that disability was categorised by code.

"S8 I would guess." Said the man obtusely.

"What does that mean?" Alex was almost getting annoyed with the know it all swim coach.

"Ever heard of the Paralympic movement?"

So that was the clue, "No. Should I have?"

"A games like the olympics offering sports for disabled and blind people. Are you amputations recent?"

"July last year."

"Been swimming long?"

Alex almost answered sarcastically since I was four but the guy was being nice enough "I swam for school in Year 8. But I started again during rehabilitation in October."

"No rehab earlier?" Bill was a bit perplexed, swimming was standard in most programmes of rehabilitation.

Alex explained "I got a post op infection was in ICU for weeks, got better from that then got pneumonia."

"Come meet Mark on Saturday. He would love a training partner."

"What time?"

"9:30."

By the Wednesday, James Hale had finally said hello, but went back talking to the rest of his mates on the football team. Three year elevens kept following Gabby around. She was totally oblivious. Alex was asked by Miss Tenby to rejoin Drama Club. Alex declined as he had an appointment after school on Wednesdays. Thursday was Alex's first gym class. Mr Carlton looked at Alex like he had two heads. "Umm, can you run?"

"No." The bastard teacher looked like Alex had spoiled his whole year by not being able to play on the fotball team again.

"Jump?"

"No. nor skip or dance or pivot. Walking is hard enough thanks"

Alex went and sat on a bench when everyone else started playing basketball. Gaby went ballistic. She told Alex to get changed and they both went to visit Mr. Bray. Gaby then ranted on and on about inclusion and a level playing field. Mr Bray then asked what Alex wanted. He shrugged and said. I'll swim when I can. All the normals can play their sports I'll practice mine.

Normals. Mr Bray's mouth actually twitched. "I apologise for Carlton's lack of inclusion in his lesson plans. You have to make allowances for Sports Teachers. He'll probably get the hang of having a disabled pupil by the time he retires". Alex thought that was amusing Mr Carlton was about 26.

There was still a hour of gym to go. Alex went to the pool with Gabby and she read hello and he did laps.


	8. Chapter 8

Yassen was sat on a Kawasaki sports bike in black skin tight leathers showing off the assasin's long and lean body, his helmet open. Yassen smiled as Alex walked up to him. It was if Alex could not stop himself. He climbed on the bike and Yassen sped through London to a smart newly built townhouse. The bedroom was dark and cool. The Russian watched as Alex stripped off his school uniform, carefully folding each item, before he removed his legs and lay splayed out on the bed, hot and hard, waiting for Yassen to touch him.

At this point Alex woke up, sweating. Fuck he'd made a mess of his bed, cum everywhere. Alex got up and showered. He dragged the bedlinen off his bed and took it into the kitchen. Washing machine on, Alex made coffee in the bleak dark early morning. Alex got his journal and noted the details of the dream. Alex closed his eyes he could almost taste Yassen, his mouth, his cock. Fuck, he was a sick and twisted little pervert, Alex had another hard on. Alex had therapy after school today. He guessed he'd be talking about sex with Rick today. Alex preferred the dreams where Yassen fucked him to the nightmares where he tortured him. Alex had a bit of a dual personality when thinking about his dad's old friend. The man was smoking hot, but a complete and utter bastard. Alex shivered at least his hard on had gone, thinking about interrogation helped. Alex drank his coffee and bit his nails.

At 6, Jon came down. "Wet dream or puke?" as he noted the bedding in the washing machine and Alex lying on the sofa reading.

"Wet dream." answered alex from his comfortable spot

"Can I ask the details?" enquired Jon as he put on fresh coffee.

"Yassen, always Yassen. Why can't I become attracted to some sad sack at school?" Alex complained but the thought of anyone from school touching him made him queasy.

Jon attempted to answer that impossible question, "Because either you prefer older men or because the only experience you have is that cock sucking cunt of an assassin."

Alex snorted at Jon's profanity "Nicely put there, Jon."

Jon shook his head and made porridge and fruit salad. "Have you been up for hours?"

"Since 4. Done all my homework. I'll have a nap at school at lunchtime. Thank god its Friday." The Alex remembered his conversation with Bill Tavner. "Oh Christ I forgot. Bill Tavner, asked me to train with another kid he coaches tomorrow at school."

"Training?" Jon tried to remember what needed to be rescheduled tomorrow.

"Some kid called Mark. It'll be fun to meet someone like me." continued Alex

"Like you?" Jon was now completely lost.

"Well, Mark has cerebral palsy. He's classed as an S5. I'm an S8. I have to find out more about the Paralympics. Its a games like the Olympics for blind and disabled people. Different classifications for different range of movement or sight." Alex said in a rush.

Jon just shock his head. One week back at school and Alex was already thinking in the long term, Paralympics. Good on Alex.

Tony heard shouting. Normally Alex was calm and collected during his sessions, speaking in a flat monotone about the horrors in his past. They had family sessions once a month, more like a check list of how everything was going. But Alex was shouting, so angry and upset. Tony stood up, then Rick was at the door beckoning him in. Alex was sat on the couch, crying. Tony immediately went to his side and enveloped him in his arms. "Baby boy, it all right. Papa's here now. Everything's fine. Whats upset my no 1 boy?"

"I.. I.." Alex took great gulps of air, trying to calm himself "..I told Rick my big secret. I promised Ian I would not to tell anyone, it was just between the two of us, but Ian's dead so he can't hold me too it." Alex had a determined look on his face. Oh how Alex hated Ian.

Tony closed his eyes and listened to Alex tell him what a complete and utter bastard Ian Rider had been to this beautiful boy, who should have treasured and loved. "When I was 10, Ian took me to Prague. He showed me how to pick pockets and how to pick locks. I drove a car for the first time and how to suck Ian's cock." Alex had said it. Ian had said Alex was old enough to be given the talk. A lot more detailed talk than most kids. He learned how to pleasure both men and women. At the time Alex had sat in horror listening to the gross details. Then Ian had insisted on practicals saying Alex would learn soon enough to seduce girls, if he took after his father, but he needed to learn how sex with boys worked. Alex had given his uncle a hand job to start with, then later a blow job. After Prague those lessons were not talked about, it was just one of those things Alex needed to know. So Alex offering himself to Yassen had been fulfillment of Ian's training.

Alex was practically asleep by the time Tony got him to the car. Tony now wished they had got a taxi. He wanted to hold Alex until they got home. Alex fell asleep in the car and was helped to bed, and actually had a full nights sleep.

The next morning Alex had been dropped off at school for swimming and Jon and Tony were having some me time. They had mentioned a gallery opening in Clapham, but Alex guessed they were probably back at home fucking like bunnies. The first thing Alex said when he met Mark Lister was "Cool Wheelchair. That's like the a Fucking Ferrari. Oh sorry, I'm Alex."

Mark Laughed said "Bad boy, you said a naughty word."

"Oh sorry I swear all the time."

"Shouldn't"

Alex shrugged and made made no excuses "I know I shouldn't. So Mark want to race."

Tony and Jon had not gone home or to an art gallery but were sat talking with Rick, Alex's psychologist.

"Well the cat came out of the bag yesterday. We knew Ian Rider's treatment of Alex was pathological and abusive, but Alex's revelation yesterday explains so much. Alex's impulsiveness and all the trouble he got into last year. There is a text book case of a kid screaming look at me, I hurt, I have been hurt, manipulated and lied to. Please stop it. Alex above all wanted his uncle to show him attention and he basked in any attention that Ian showed him. To use Alex sexually and then pass it of as just another lesson in Ian's great game plan, has shocked even me."

Rick had grown to really like Alex, who had shown real progress except when discussing sex. Rick had been pleased when the session yesterday had stared with Alex discussing his wet dreams. The revelation about Ian had followed a text book question on if Alex had had sexual feelings for his uncle. The denial had been screamed at Rick with the fact Alex had hated sex with Ian, and how he hated Ian in general. The list of swearwords used to described his uncle had been long and very informative. Alex had been hiccuping at this point. Rick had then asked calmly how old Alex had been when sex had started with his uncle. Alex had then answered very quietly "10" and had broken down completely.

"Children who have been abused follow patterns. Alex is likely to act out in school and have complete breakdown at some point, probably when you least expect it. He is hurting because of Ian dying and Jack leaving, for all the shit MI6 and the CIA did, and from the events on Cuba. He's an amazing boy. To admit to what Ian did, to tell me and you his deepest darkest secret means Alex has come to truly trust us and his home environment. We have to support him, no matter how badly he behaves and the awful things he will say. Alex will try to get you to leave him because he hates himself. This is the part where unconditional love comes in. Punish his bad behaviour but he must know he is loved and he is safe."


	9. Chapter 9

Tony went to work disappearing all day leaving early in the morning and arriving home late at night for four days. The film included two night shoots. Jon and Alex carried on like nothing had happened. Alex had fewer nightmares and appeared calm and collected, settling in to his school routine, which was exhausting enough.

Alex sat by himself in the school library, Tom was mulling over the fact Alex had told him everything. Tom shocked and silent had walked out. Alex was morose. He picked up his phone and called Rick. Amazingly Rick picked up.

"Whats the problem, Alex?"

"I told Tom everything. I think he's in shock."

"Bits and pieces are the normal way to start. Everything? As in Ian's a pedophile, MI6 and the CIA screwed you over, you met a crazy, cool russian and were tortured and raped by your dad's one time assassin lover." the shrink said half jokingly.

"Pretty much. I think I may have destroyed the only friendship I have left." Alex moaned.

"Give him time Alex. Its a lot of information to process. You have a session tonight. We'll talk more. Take one of your tranquillisers, if you feel out of control."

"I don't like taking them, everything feels distant, wrong." Alex hated the feeling of being not in control.

"Alex, thats the idea, it gives you time to cope with your feelings." Rick had explained this at every session.

"OK. I get it. See you tonight." Alex put his phone away and started rummaging in his back pack.

Becka Hughes listening in had caught the end of Alex's telephone conversation. "So Rider, got a date?" she asked cheekily, wondering what type of girl Rider would go for.

"Yeah with my shrink, twice a week every week, once a month family sessions. I bet he suggests I go to his special teen group therapy thing now." Alex made a face. Group had been bad enough in Washington.

She then watched Alex pull out a pill bottle, right in the library and take a tablet. "So what did you take there then, druggie?" said the girl going for broke. If he lied she was going to tell a teacher right away.

"Tranquilliser. Keep me calm." Alex explained showing Becka the perscription label in his name.

Becka softened, "So whats upset you then?"

"I don't think Tom likes having a psycho best friend." Alex put his head on the table at this.

"Psycho?" Becka was a bit worried Alex seemed really upset, normally nothing got to Alex.

"My life is so fucked up you would not believe it. I bet my anti-depressants get increased as well. Fuck I really hate myself." Alex rubbed his eyes willing the numbness to start.

Becka put her hand on Alex's shoulder. "Alex Everything will be alright."

"Sure. It can't get much fucking worse."

The next day started with Becka coming up to Alex crying and asking forgiveness. Alex had already taken a tranquilizer, so was unusually un-phased by the crying girl touching him.

"I'm so sorry Alex. I talked to Sue about you and she must talked to everyone in her phone book. I did not think she was such a bitch. I am not talking to her ever again." Alex just wondered which one of Becka's brain dead friends was Sue.

Then Mitch came up to Alex , slapped him on the back and said "Morning Psycho, see you got a girlfriend."

So Alex got a new friend. Becka stuck by him all day. She and Gabby got on like a house on fire. Alex seemed to have been accepted back into his class, but the nickname Psycho seemed to have stuck, better than druggie. Everyone accepted Alex as being depressed and on therapy. They all seemed to forget about the prolonged period of chinese whispers and sending to coventry that had isolated Alex since Ian's death.

Becka tried Alex's bean salad at lunchtime and kept taking mouthfuls. She approved of Alex's weird diet and asked if he was fully vegan. "Umm no, I occasionally eat meat and fish. Just no dairy of any variety. Makes me puke spectacularly."

"So what caused this?" Becka asked the one question he had never asked himself, it was just one of the things he had deal with.

Alex paused. "I think it was the shit loads of very strong antibiotics I was on last year. They had really bad side affects. My hair even fell out." Alex remembered his hair being shawn off on orders of Alexei, making him practically bald after his hair fell out in handfuls.

The next day they had citizenship's class, the topic was sex and relationships. A nightmare of embarrassment and giggling. The last class with Mr Reynolds Alex could remember was talking about families. The knob-head teacher started by asking what classified a sexual act. Alex was the only one brave or stupid enough to stick up his hand,

"Depends if its between a boy and girl, a girl and a girl or two males. Sex is the penetration of the vagina or anus with either fingers, tongue, object or penis and the penetration of the mouth by penis or object, or the simulation of the penis or clitoris using hand or tongue. Girls and boys can both get off as in orgasm without the act of penetration by the stimulation of the clitoris or the penis and testes using hands either directly or through clothes." All of this Alex said while looking out of the window.

"Very clear description Alex." The teacher looked at Alex funny. The boy had given a clear almost legal description including both heterosexual and homosexual intercourse.

"And what construes rape or sexual assault?"

Alex again put up his hand and answered. "When the sexual act is unwanted, forced or coerced or if the one of the participants is not physically or mentally able to refuse."

Again Alex had supplied a text book answer. The Mr Reynold's asked "So, who's had sex?" and Mr Reynolds put up his hand and half the girls giggled.

In the class of fourteen and fifteen year olds three hands went up including Alex's. Alex was sure some of the girls had, but if any girl put her hand up she'd automatically be slag. Reynolds had asked when they had done it. Steve and Mitch had steady older girlfriends and had done it in the last few weeks, they both smiled recollecting loosing it. Then came Alex's answer "I was ten when my uncle forced me to suck him off"

The class was silent. The teacher then looked at Alex "Ten".

"Yep."

Andrew Reynolds did not know what to say. He then continued with his lesson plan. After class Reynolds went to speak with Mr. Bray.

Gabby kept looking at Alex with huge sad eyes during lunch. She looked like she was going to burst into tears. Alex went to Science and Tom sat with him. "Sorry I've been a tit."

Alex smiled. "I did kind of drop everything on you at once."

"My mum is going to go ape shit about sleep overs at your house with Ian." Tom's mum was very overprotective and still thought he was about eight. Mind you she treated Jerry like he was eight as well and he was nearly twenty two.

Alex looked at Tom worried "Ian never touched you, did he?"

"No, but I bet I get the third degree about this."

"I've really dropped a bomb shell haven't I" Alex looked at Tom, who was unusually serious.

Then the old Tom Alex knew and loved surfaced "Mega. Good one Psycho. Keep us all on our toes."

Alex remained serious knowing Tom's home life was difficult at the moment "If you deny everything they won't believe you Tom. They'll think you just suppressed it. It took me over four years to tell anyone." Alex smiled "It might get your parents to act like adults for once."

"Do you think so?" Tom was not convinced. His parents had been at each other throats for the past few years and it was getting old.

"Yeah, just fake loosing your appetite and having nightmares."

"No way, they send me to some a fucking shrink. Not that you seeing a shrink is a bad thing." Tom interrrupted and then noticing his foot had been placed in his mouth, so he backtracked.

Alex ignored Tom's comment and finished "And they'll pay you lots and lots of attention and might stop fighting and acting like complete arseholes."

Gabby was waiting for Alex after science and told him he had to see Mr Bray.

Funny no one thought he was lying. It was a fact Alex was a poor damaged boy. Why the fuck had no one put two and two together previously. Maybe because when Alex came to Brookland, Alex's relationship with Ian had distanced itself to occasional guardian thing again, when Ian could be bothered to remember, he had a home and a nephew. Funny Alex had been closest emotionally to his uncle when Ian had sexually abused him.

Alex was broken from his train of thought by Jon hugging him. Jon had been called into school. He was wearing a nice suit with his security pass still attached to his jacket pocket.

"Sorry" said Alex.

"Don't be sorry." Jon rubbed Alex on the back "I got out of a nightmare meeting with all the department heads."

Alex sat with Miss Bedfordshire as his latest revelation was discussed by the teachers, Mr Bray, Jon and Gabby as representative of Social Services. Jon came out after 40 minutes and smiled and hugged Alex again. Gabby asked if Ian had had contact with any other children Alex knew about. Alex piped up that only Tom had met Ian regularly. James had only been over when Jack had been there. No one else had come over to the house at Cheyne Walk.

Tom was cross the next day. "Thanks a lot Psycho. Social Services were round last night. My mum and dad wanted me to sleep in the same room as them. I am not a bed wetting five year old. There are no monsters under the bed."

"No the monsters are all around us." Alex said in a low quiet voice.

"Not got much faith in humanity then." Tom said suddenly serious

"Some. You're OK?" Alex looked at Tom.

"Yeah. Mum made me my favourite breakfast and Dad drove me to school this morning. He's picking me up tonight." Then Becka walked past and waved and blushed when looking at Tom

"Funny I got indian takeaway last night. Do not tell Tony." Alex then looked at his hands "Jon said I'll get bullied something awful."

"No one will try anything. Gabby is bloody scary when pissed off. Whats with Becka anyway?" Tom was looking past Alex to the group of giggling girls as he said this.

"We talked. I think I'm a special project. Poor abused, damaged Alex." Alex was unsure why Becka liked him. It was not his winning personality that was for sure.

"Has she invited you to her party?"

"Oh yeah. You?"

"Yep. Its at the skating rink." Tom looked at Alex like he was insane.

"Umm I skate."

"Right." Tom then did a mime of skating on two false legs. It looked like a mad man tap dancing.

"Tom control is mostly from the knees."

"And toes numb skull, how are you going to stop."

"That what the edge and other people are for." Alex smiled.

At the end of January, Tony was holding a small celebration. Alex was no longer a Rider but, Alex Fletcher-Smith. The adoption was official. Tony's brother was there with his stick thin young wife, Magda. Alex was introduced to a scary old woman, Jon's Aunty Silvia. Tony and Jon had invited friends from work. Derek Smithers had hugged Alex after admiring his legs. Alex invited Tom and Becka and their parents. Alex had been paraded around all the guests at the beginning and then he, Tom and Becka watched DVD's in Alex's room. Then Alex pulled off his legs climbed onto his wheel chair and stated he was going for a sympathy run.

Alex in a loud voice went cripple coming through and as a phalanx they made it to the kitchen to look for snacks and drinks. Alex noted a familiar man across the room, he must have arrived later than the other guests. Dark hair and eyes, tall and fit. Alex then remembered his face. Fox, K unit. Alex went from happy to emotionless like someone had flipped a switch.

"Are you OK, Alex?" asked a concerned Becka.

Distracted Alex answered "I have to speak to someone."

Alex wheeled himself over to Fox who was chatting to a young woman, who Alex remembered being a production assistant at BBC drama. Alex coughed.

"Hello Cub how are you?" asked the man with a Liverpudlian accent

"Spectacular." said Alex in a flat emotionless tone. "So you work for the bank?"

"Yes, since April." Fox answered noticing Cub who was looking at him like he was the devil himself.

"Office 1504?" Alex continued the interrogation.

"Yes, how did you know that?" Fox was now disturbed. Cub knew far too much about his work.

"You got Ian's job." Alex said with a dead voice.

"Ian?" There was no agent called Ian at the bank.

"Ian Rider, liar, child abusing bastard, corpse. My former guardian and paternal uncle."

"Right. I didn't know." Fox offered as a half apology, now seriously worried about the boy in front of him.

Alex then looked at the girl and warned her, "If he's anything like my uncle everything out of his mouth is a lie." Alex then broke into a hard britttle smile and turned back to Fox and said "Give my love to James and the rest of K-unit if you see them".

Alex then spun his chair around, with the intention of going straight back to his room, locking the door and turning on his CD player full blast. Half way there, the sound of Peter letting off fireworks on the roof caused all thoughts of the party, Tom, Tony and Jon to leave his head. He did not hear Becka calling his name. He was suddenly in the dark, on the floor of the killing house, stunned, blind and deaf, retching, helpless.

Alex could smell vomit. He was on his bed and Jon was washing him. Rick was there, watching, concerned. Alex had not had a flashback that vivid since Washington. Seeing Fox had dredged all the bad memories of last spring. Alex thought about the cold roast lamb lunch after Blunt sealed his fate and he was retching again. Jon had a bowl ready. Nothing but bile came up.

Christ Alex knew he must have vomited all over the living room floor. How fucking brilliant.

"So what did you eat?" asked Jon, thinking Alex must have eaten chocolate, or cheese.

"Nothing bad. Had a flashback to Brecon. Killing House. Wolf pushed me onto one of the trip wires."

Jon, with remarkable speed, made the connection. "Christ, sorry Alex. Ben Daniels has been hanging out with Derek. I never thought you knew him from the Bank."

"I trained with him and K unit at Brecon. So Fox's real name is Ben." Alex lay down and closed his eyes.

"He was adopted as well." Jon added as an explanation for inviting him.

"My heart bleeds" spat Alex feeling no empathy with Fox what so ever. He might not have been a complete bastard like Wolf but he had still been pretty shitty to Alex. Before Alex could stop himself he was sobbing. Jon hugged him and Rick was telling Alex to relax he was just giving him an injection to help him sleep.

Alex woke to Jon asleep, sat on Alex's computer chair and lying across the end of Alex's bed. Alex looked at the clock on his bedside table. 7:30am. Alex still felt exhausted. He had slept the sleep of the dead, the fuzzy after affects of being drugged was evident. That alone could trigger a flash back to his time with the delightful Miss Stellenbosh.

Alex shifted out of the bed and slid over to his bathroom and sat down for a pee. Jon was still asleep when Alex pulled himself onto his wheelchair and went out in search of coffee.

Rick was sat in the kitchen. He must have stayed the night. The room was clean and tidy no sign of Alex making a complete arse of himself in full view of everyone.

"Morning Alex."

"Morning Doc."

The doc handed Alex a glass of water and a tranquiler.

"What no coffee?"

"Do you want to puke again. Toast or porridge?" Rick began looking in the cupboards.

Alex had to decide on the least offensive breakfast "Umm Millet flakes and soya milk. No maybe rice cakes. I puked more than once."

In a no nonsense tone Rick stated "That you did. Talk to me Alex."

"With everything that happened last summer, the stuff that happened before I kind of forgot about it." Alex frowned as he thought back to his life spiralling out of control after he started investigating Ian's car crash.

"Suppressed, you mean." added the doctor, as he still looked through the kitchen cupboards.

"So. I need to deal with all that shit as well." Alex shuddered at the thought of Brecon.

"Yes." Rick said as he handed Alex a packet of organic rice cakes.

"So its one long session today?" Alex had no choice but to talk.

"Here or at my office. Your choice Alex." Alex knew if he refused he'd be in hospital before you could say Psycho.

Alex settled on the couch and then told Rick all the sordid details of being trained and working for MI6.

Alex lay on the sofa, trying to understand his bad reaction to Fox. "I told Tom a bit. That did not trigger flashbacks."

"You saw a visible reminder triggering your suppressed memories, you saw Fox. It was a very traumatic time for you Alex. Ian had died. You had been threatened and blackmailed. Then thrust into a series of difficult and dangerous simulations."

"Seeing Smithers has never been a problem." Alex liked the gadget man.

"You see Derek Smithers as a type of father christmas figure. He poses no threat to you and has always been pleasant, never condescending or abusing."

"Right, Doc. Father Christmas. Ho Ho Ho." Alex threw a cushion at Rick for that analogy.

Rick smiled. Alex had finished eating the packet of rice cakes. And it was now just after ten.

Alex got onto his wheelchair again wanting a drink "Tea Doc?".

"Thanks Alex. White, two sugars."

"We only have goats and soya milk."

Rick was used to the strange diets here "Goats milk please."

"Yeah soya milk takes some getting used to. Soya yogurt is OK though" added Alex.

Jon then came out of Alex's room stretching his back. "Morning all. Been up long?"

"Yeah" said Alex, "Had a full session of head shrinking already. I made tea and fruit salad. Go get Tony up. By the time we're all dressed we can go to the pub for lunch."

"You up for that then, puker?"

"Umm, maybe. I think I'll just have soup."


	10. Chapter 10

Alex's change of name passed with most of his class congratulating him on being adopted. Alex had a proper family for the first time ever and in three days he was fifteen. What changes the last year had brought.

A week later, the second day of the half term holiday brought another chest infection. A night in hospital and bed rest on oxygen at home. Tony was away in New York and had wanted to return to Britain as soon as he heard Alex was ill.

Jon swore as he replaced the phone headset, it was 6am and he had been called as a last minute replacement lecturer for a day's course in encryption at Hereford. Jon had booked the half term week off as holiday. A car was coming with a driver. Alex would go with him and be looked after at the base hospital. Jon quickly got breakfast and pack up lunch and dinner ready for Alex out of the freezer. There was no way Alex could stomach the high calorie rations served to the army.

Alex slept during the three hour journey to the welsh border, while Jon worked on his presentation. They arrived just before 10 with two Sergeants on hand, one to show Jon to the lecture theatre and one to take Alex to the infirmary. Jon quickly hugged Alex and said he pop in at lunch time to check up on him. Alex was helped into his wheelchair by the driver, who then wrapped a thick blue blanket around Alex's legs. Alex was achy, cold and worn out. He still smiled and said "Hello Sergeant", remembering the man as the soldier who had named him Cub a year earlier.

"Good Morning Cub, Welcome to the Special Forces HQ." Sargent Dixon looked at the boy, who looked like he had shrunk since the last year. Cub was thin, looked terrible and was wheezing despite the oxygen catheter on his nose. The driver picked up a day bag and handed it to the Sargent. "Mr Fletcher-Smith's pack ups, medical notes and prescriptions."

"Pack ups?"

Alex smiled and informed the army man of his orders from Jon. "Dad does not think I could stomach army food. Everything I eat is organic, wheat and dairy free. I can drink water and eat fruit. Nothing else is to be trusted."

The Sergeant was puzzled, Cub the previous year had no problems eating the slop handed out a Brecon. "Righty-o. Off to medical then."

"Yippee." The Sergeant pushed the wheelchair across the quadrant marching fast and into the whitewashed single storey structure which was signposted as base hospital. Alex was reminded stay at Santa Cruz.

The MO was waiting and took the boy straight in to the examination room. Alex would get a full work over then be settled into bed, while his paperwork was checked out. Even though he was here for last minute medical emergency cover, protocols were being observed. It would have been more disruptive and more expensive to cancel the intensive day course in encryption than to accommodate the replacement lecturer's sick teenage son. The MO had noted the Sergeant addressing the child as Cub as he said his farewells. Bronchial pneumonia had been caught early and treated aggressively with a course of intravenous antibiotics. Second reoccurrence of pneumonia since the water boarding of the child by Scorpia. Alex was placed on an blood oxygen monitor and his oxygen saturation was low but not dangerously so, Alex was on the mend. Another day and he'd be up and about. Alex was short and underweight for a fifteen year old. The amputations were in good order and Alex showed signs of good upper body strength. As soon as the nurse transferred him to a bed, Alex slept.

Jon popped in to find Alex still asleep at 12:30. He went back to mingle with his students over the buffet lunch. Alex woke at 2 and ate his packup, soup warmed through in the nurses microwave. Alex noted his oxygen level was still low. The nurse checked his blood pressure and was pleasantly friendly.

The doctor signed off the paperwork and took it over to the CO.

"File for Master Alexander John Fletcher-Smith, formerly Rider, Sir."

"So how is Cub?"

"On the mend. Pneumonia treated with high dosage antibiotics. The drugs probably making Alex as ill as the infection. He'll probably sleep most of today. All the info sent over by SIS and St. Dominic's checks out."

"Any visitors?" enquired the CO, knowing Cub's old unit were on base this week.

"No I don't think Sergeant Dixon will let K-unit know. Alex needs his rest."

"Give the kid some sweets or something to cheer him up."

"The kid won't eat them. Jonathan Smith left strict instructions for only the food supplied was to be ingested. Alex has intolerance to dairy. His diet sheet from St. Dominic's is fairly restrictive."

"Poor kid." said the Colonel.

"Yeah. My kids would eat junk all day every day."

"Good Job, Major." The Colonel was glad the kid seemed to be in good hands. His adoptive father expected the best for Alex.

Tony came back from New York with brand new iPods for both Jon and Alex. He then proceeded to try and mother Alex to death. On the Saturday after Alex went back to school Tony and Alex were off for a little treat. Tony adored the ballet. Alex had never been and was willing to try anything. After the performance was over Tony and a very subdued Alex left the stalls after most of the audience had already left. Tony sighed. Alex was a sports mad 100% fully macho boy, so much like his beloved Jon. "You hated it didn't you?"

Alex looked at his Papa with tears in his eyes. "umm no. I just feel like Pinocchio"

Pinocchio? Tony was perplexed they had seen Sleeping Beauty

They had made it to the foyer when Alex suddenly sat down on the floor and pulled off his prosthetic legs "Pinocchio - I want to be a real boy. Not this!" Pointing at his legs and then at his head "and not psycho abuse victim thing" Alex hung his head in his hands clinging to the despair in his heart. "I hate being weak and ill and different." Alex then almost shouted "I want this fucking nightmare to end. I want my life back. I miss karate and football and skiing and running." Alex continued in a quiet voice "I want Jack to be there for me. What did I do wrong? It was an accident. Its not my fault. None of this is my fault. I liked living with her in Chelsea. I miss my old life. I love you Tony, but watching something so magical, so precise and so beautiful just reminded me of all the doors that have closed and are never going to open again. Its such hard work just walking, but I want to be able to jump and turn. Its like that song in Monty Python Life's a piece of shit when you look at it. What is the bright side of this?" as Alex pointed at the cold metal prosthetics on the floor.

"Oh Alex! You've just made me so happy." said a smiling Tony

The sad introspective tearful boy looked at Tony confused "What?"

"You like ballet?"

"Yes it was brilliant."

Tony sat down on the floor besides Alex and hugged him "Jon loathes it. He loathes all dancing. When I was 18 I took dance lessons for the first lime. I love dancing. I dream about ballet, I too watch it and think if only I'd trained as a child. That door is closed to me."

"So it makes you sad to?"

"In a good way. I remember all the things I'm good at. I love Jon even if he's has no culture what so ever."

"You love me even though I'm broken?"

"I love you precious boy. You're not broken. You are just Alex. My Alex. I would not have you any other way." At this Alex hugged his papa, maybe life did have a bright side after all.


	11. Chapter 11

The summer holidays started like spring half term, Alex caught a cold which progressed scarily fast into a chest infection. Alex sat in casualty and waiting to be transferred onto the high dependency ward, he was hooked up to a drip and was on oxygen again. His temperature had sky rocketed the night before and Alex started vomiting when he had coughed so hard. Jon sat his adopted son, when his phone went off. The way Jon jumped up and exited meant only one thing, it was the bank. Who knew programmers were so important. Jon came in and kissed the top of Alex's head. I have to go in, there's been a cyber attack on our defences, a big one. Tony is on his way. Try to get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow some time.

Alex hated hospitals. The junior doctor was annoying, he had half stripped Alex and was touching him. Alex wanted to head butt him, when the doctor had finished his examination Alex signed to Tony _Can I go home now?_

_Soon._ signed Tony as bored as Alex.

Alex waited for the consultant to make his rounds. Mr McIntyre listen to Alex's chest.

"OK sport, You're on the mend, temperature is down, 99.4 is a lot better than 103. Your lungs are congested but the antibiotics will sort that out. You blood oxygen level is rising. You can go home, but complete bed rest. You have oxygen at home?"

To which Tony nodded.

"Your GP can take it from here. No swimming or strenuous exercise for at least two weeks. Your heart and lungs need rest to recover."

Tony then asked "Can we go on holiday?"

"Where are you going?" asked the consultant.

"Marbella in two weeks." Tony had borrowed a friends villa. He was worrying if they needed to take oxygen with them.

"Lovely. There should not be a problem." My office will update his notes and you can collect a copy from the your practice to take them with you to Spain, just in case.

Year 11 meant GCSE's and all that. Alex was academically on line to take four languages, Maths and ICT in January. The new school year began as a nightmare. Over the summer Tom had started dating Becka, so Alex was now the third wheel. Alex just spent breaks studying. There was a new transfer student , Dom Parker, thought it was funny to pick on Alex. Alex could not give a shit about the cripple and your so fucking useless comments. So what. Alex smiled coldly and stated ha fucking ha.

Alex watched Becka and Tom walk through school oblivious to everyone except themselves. So this was love, becoming a mindless zombie. Alex felt the sneer on his face. The term in English started with Romeo and Juliet and Shakespeare's sonnets, why could they not be studying Macbeth. The first paper was on true love. Bloody fairy tales. Alex had no illusions that either Ian or Yassen had felt anything for Alex beyond the brief release of pleasure from the physical act. Alex's feelings for Yassen bordered on obsession but not love. The man was coldly and terrifyingly fascinating. Their relationship based on the knife edge of staying alive. Alex had caught the attention of a grade A serial killer, Alex could not fathom Yassen's reasons for keeping him alive. His paper describing the difference between family love and obligations and all consuming obsessive love had got him an A* and was held up as a excellent example of understanding of the material. Alex knew a thing or two about obsession and family feuds.

The comments from dick face Parker continued. Alex had swum for two weeks during his games lessons before sitting out touch rugby in the hall. Oh how Parker crowed about the cripple sitting the lesson out, right in Alex's face. Alex stood up looking Parker straight in the eye, How about Boxing today" and quick as a flash punched Parker, flooring the arrogant bastard. Most of the class actually cheered. Mitchell spoke up "So nobody told you Parker that Psycho has a black belt in karate. I've seen him break blocks of wood in half."

Alex sat waiting for Tony or Jon. After an hour and a half Alex was handed a letter and sent home. One week internal exclusion, as most of the class had outed Parker a a bullying piece of shite. Alex would be spending a week studying on his own.

Alex arrived home to find both cars were in the yard, great both Tony and Jon were home. Alex had well and truly blotted his copy book. He stood in the gateway weighing up his options. Fuck he'd been in trouble with the police, run off chasing bad guys during a dentist appointment with Jack and burned the science block and not been phased. Alex was terrified Jon and Tony's reaction to his bit of major rule breaking.

He had turned around and in half an hour and two buses he stood outside his old house on Cheyne Walk, with its a different coloured front door and different curtains. Not his home, not any more. Alex sat and watched as strangers entering, lights going on, TV flickering in the half light. Alex had forgotten his phone and all his change had been spent on the bus fares to Chelsea. He started to walk home but stopped on Vauxhall Bridge and looked towards Westminster and the City. Alex sat on the wall, legs dangling over the edge, black water of the Thames below. Alex was cold, his stumps hurt, but he did not want to go home and face the music.

PC Radjit Singh saw the blond haired teenage boy sitting dangerously on the edge of the bridge. Hell, was the kid a potential suicide? This was the first time his negotiation training was being called upon.

Alex was broken from his thoughts by a copper asking him if he was alright.

"No not really."

"Have you run away?" asked the concerned PC.

Had he? "No. I just needed space to think." Liar. To right you ran away. No such a perfect boy now.

"Its 1am, son. Been thinking long?"

"Nine hours or so."

"Come on, lets get you warmed up."

Alex got a ride in a police car, it was like old times. Putney Police Station had not changed since Alex's visits the previous year. Alex was sat down and the first thing he did was take off his legs and prayed he did not have to walk anywhere else. The incident officer came in and did a double take.

"Sorry, my legs are really sore. I was stupid and walked for a couple of miles."

"OK. Lets get started. Name?" The policeman concentrated on typing in details.

"Alex...Alexander John Fletcher-Smith."

"Date of Birth?"

"13th February 1987."

"And address?"

"155 Christchurch Road, Lambeth."

"Parents?"

"Tony Fletcher and Jonathan Smith."

"Ahh. Here we go. You were listed as missing at 18:30 tonight." The incident officer then rang Alex's home. Alex then rolled up his trousers. His leg socks were smeared with blood. The officer was on the phone again. The first aid kit had been sent for.

Jon and Tony had been sick with worry. Alex had left his phone at home. He'd not gone to Tom's or Becka's houses. They had no idea where he had disappeared to. Jon was driving around Lambeth looking for Alex as Tony waited at home by the phone.

Jon had got the message from Tony and stormed into the Police station fully prepared to scream blue murder at Alex for disappearing. All anger bled away as he was shown into the office with the young police woman bandaging Alex's stumps. "Do you need to go to hospital?" were the first words out of Jon's mouth.

The WPC answered "No, I don't think so. There are some nasty blisters, which have burst. All have been cleaned and dressed." The WPC smiled wish Alex a good night as she left. Then, Alex then pulled the blood stained socks back on and reached for his legs. Sorry did not quite cover the amount of shit Alex was in and then he coughed.

"You stupid boy. Its only seven weeks since you were last in hospital with a chest infection." Jon had removed his jacket and placed it on Alex's shoulders. "Jesus, you must have caught your death of cold. Lets get you home and in bed."

Jon then asked "What have you been up to? Vandalism? Criminal damage? Joy Riding?"

Alex was tired and scared "Walking and thinking. I need to talk to Rick about stuff."

"Stuff like getting excluded from school for attacking a class mate."

"No, stuff like I'm not coping with everything and I've been suppressing my feelings making me have angry outbursts." Alex had thought everything through in clinical terms. "I've been so afraid of disappointing you and then I go do two impulsive things in one day."

"Oh." was the only thing Jon said to that "Lets get home then Al. Lets go home."

Back at the house, Alex was hugged by Tony and then told he was grounded. No TV no DVD's, no computer games for the week he was excluded. Tony then helped Alex to bed, tucking his duvet up to his chin and singing a lullaby like Alex was a small child. Alex slept and dreamt of Alexei Sarov doing the same thing on Cuba a lifetime ago.

Alex had two extra sessions with Rick that week. His first was an was an hour and a half marathon the next day after his first day of exclusion.

"My relationship with Yassen was very intimate"

"In what way Alex?"

"Even before I had sex with Yassen. He was my confessor. I told him everything. Layers of secrets stripped away" Alex then thought about those dark days "Yassen has beautiful hands, long elegant fingers, so strong. He pressed into my flesh on my pressure points. The pain was so immense. Two sessions I wanted Yassen to blow my fucking brains out."

Alex shuddered at the memory, sipping on water " It was like Yassen weighed every word I said, every scream I made, every expression on my face. I loved the intense way he studied me. In a way I was his and his alone. He owned me completely." Alex looked at Rick who was watching Alex "I remember telling him about Ian. It was the only time he lost composure. I thought my number was up. I think that was when our relationship changed. He asked me if I had enjoyed sucking Ian off. It is just one of the worst things that has happened to me. I told him I was never aroused by Ian, the opposite in fact, revulsion. Yassen studied me. I then offered myself to him. I think I'd already guessed that I had been measured up."

"Measured up as what?"

"Potential lover. He kissed me and I got so hard. He wanked me. I still dream of him touching me. Its one of the few times I feel sexual excitement. I don't like to masturbate. I think I could not stand Parker in my personal space because it belongs to Yassen. Do you think I'll ever let anyone else touch me, excite me, make me cum?"

"Alex sexual attraction is a thing that progresses with puberty. Most boys do not need a relationship or much incentive to get hard. Do you experience erections?"

"I get them to go away by thinking about getting burned, electrocuted or waterboarded. I fucking hated when I was tortured that way."

"Are you not tempted to pleasure yourself?"

"I don't deserve pleasure. I'm a sick little fuck. If the remembrance of pain is not enough to go soft I actually hurt myself"

"How to you hurt yourself, Alex?"

"I bite the ends of my fingers, bite my arms, squeeze my balls. My pain. Mine. Nobody elses."

Alex watched as Rick made careful notes and then changed tack. "So Tom is dating?"

"Yes. Becks. They only have eyes for one and other. I don't understand relationships. I know Yassen did not love me."

"Why do you say that?"

"I think Yassen compromised himself when he started thinking about me as John's son. He was all business torturing me until I told him about Ian. There's so much I don't know about John and Yassen's relationship."

"John and Yassen?"

"John, my biological father, and Yassen. They were lovers. Yassen told me. He was 16 when my dad first fucked him. Before that, Yassen had been on the streets in Russia. He'd sucked a fair amount of cock then. I think he empathised with me."

"Yassen is a psychopath with serial killer pathology. For you to get him to empathise with him, probably saved your life."

"Sure, I enjoyed the sex, even when Yassen mixed it up with pain. I liked the bondage, being helpless, being fucked. I look at everyone in school and I can't bring myself to want them. I know what I find exciting is horrifying and sick." Alex smiled and craned his neck. "Well doc, All this talk of Yassen and I'm hard." Alex then as quick as a flash punched himself in the balls Gasping and eyes watering. In a strangled voice Alex hunched over and said "Thats how I get rid of my erections."

"Alex I want you to do a couple of things over the next week. Do not hurt yourself in any way. If you have an erection, masturbate. Think of that swimmer you like. Get some magazines. Sports magazines nothing overly sexual. You will find some of the people in those attractive. Fantasize about them touching you, OK. Then we can discuss who you find appealing."

Alex looked through the copy of sports illustrated. Shit, he was meant to be getting turned on. Alex looked at the photos. None of the fit, healthy and perfect males and females did anything for him. They all looked a bit vacant. None had the intense spine tingling stare of Yassen Gregorovich. Alex picked up the phone and left a message for Rick.

Alex had reached the awkward teenage stage as he had started to grow again. Finally he was getting taller, a full eight months after Colin who had been the smallest kid in their form in Year nine. Alex knew his accident and continued bouts of illness had probably delayed puberty. At least he was not needing testosterone injections that had been suggested during his last medical. Alex even started to get bid fat spots on his legs mostly. This was the bane of all amputees.

Alex had caught the end of a conversation Tony and Jon had had with Rick regarding Alex positively dreading growing up. The bastards thought he would go all psycho and anorexic, trying to stay a small kid. Alex did not eat like Tom, ravenous all the time. Alex liked popcorn, soya yogurts and dried fruit. Not the normal junk food high calorie chosen diet of his friends. Alex wondered if he would be the spitting image of Ian or taller like his biological father, John Rider.

Alex did not want and go to the party Tony insisted he had to attend. Then again the thought of going over to Tom's to be ignored as Tom mooned over Becka was slightly worse. Alex disgusted Tony by wearing a pair of almost destroyed jeans and a large hoody. The rips in the knees of the jeans showed off Alex's prosthetics rather well. Alex hating his new deeper voice, so had taken to almost completely using sign to Tony. Alex stood and watched the social dynamics of the party.

Alex saw the cast of a different production turn up. Alex recognised an actor who had been around for sunday lunch a couple of times. The Australian was brash, sure of himself and funny. Alex had a running joke with him about zombie films being the pinnacle of cinematic art.

Not wanting to talk, Alex moved to a new spot and continued scanning the room, watching people chat, laugh and flirt.

Tony watched his son avoid any interaction. Signing at people to 'Get lost' as soon as they tried to talk to him. The director's wife simpered about Tony adopting of a deaf/disabled boy. Tony sighed "Alex is not deaf nor mute. He just uses sign as a way to keep people away. At least, his signing includes me. Alex I'm afraid is very bright, and alienated. He likes who he likes and that is a very short list of people at the moment. He's a lovely boy if he accepts you and an absolute shit if he doesn't. A typical teenager, really."

Jon was in a team discussion when the phone rang, Jon stood up to take the call from school. The room went silent as everyone earwigged. "Yes, yes. Give me forty minutes I'll come pick Alex up."

Jon wiped his hand down his face and decided not to call Richard and Tony before he'd talked with Alex. The school thought he was suicidal.

Alex sat and ignored Miss Bedfordshire trying to engage him in conversation. He had been pulled from class this morning and sat outside Mr. Bray's office for some unknown reason. It was bad enough that Jon had been called.

Jon arrived to say "What have you done now to Alex?"

"Fuck knows. I haven't hit anyone. Work and homework is up to date. I arrive this morning and halfway through English I get pulled out of class."

"Lets face the music then Al."

Jon read the essay Alex had handed in to Mr Bradley on attitudes to suicide. School had reported Alex's continued withdrawn attitude this year and now he'd written a piece on how suicide was a great idea. Even listing several options with and without assistance. Mr. Bray was suggesting that he and Tony make sure Alex had no access to medication, sharp objects and not to be left un supervised in this difficult period. Maybe Alex's psychiatrist should be made aware of Alex's difficulties. A nice way of suggesting Alex might need sectioning.

"Alex's sessions with Richard have been progressing well. We've made some progress after Alex admitting to self harm. You know we have been monitoring him for any major changes in eating habits and behaviour. Lets ask Alex what he meant by this essay." Jon really wanted to know if they'd missed something big going on with Alex and this was his cryptic way of letting everybody know. His sessions had been spent discussing sex, self harm, relationships and Alex's reluctance of grown up.

Alex looked at his essay. "So whats the problem?"

Jon looked at Alex's defensive posture, "Umm Alex your teachers are worried you might be planning to off yourself."

Alex just shrugged. "Bradley set the essay on attitudes to suicide. I think if you're in unspeakable pain or terminally ill you should be able to choose to die. If I wanted to die I'd just do it. No talking about it or justifying it."

Mr Bray cleared his throat. "So this essay is not a way of letting us know you are considering to kill yourself."

"I may have considered it in the past, but the moment's passed. I don't currently want to throw myself off Vauxhall Bridge." With this statement Alex looked guiltily at Jon.

Jon then asked "So last month when the police picked you up, you were contemplating throwing yourself into the Thames?"

"Yeah, stupid I know. I'd have got wet. Its not like I can't swim to the side."

Jon processed this statement. He reached out and held Alex's hand. Jon was always surprised at the strange and varied ways Alex let them know how he was coping or not coping. Straight out truth sometimes was sifted by various messages. Using speed dial Jon phoned St Dominic's. "Hi, Christine Can we book Alex in for a session this afternoon? Sure. Let me know. You have my number."

Jon then piped up. "I think Alex might be off school for a couple of days. I'll let you know what Richard suggests."

As they left. Jon processed that this was quite a big thing for Alex to admit. "Thanks for letting me know. Next time email me your homework if it has important hidden messages in it."

"Sure thing dad. I wasn't really going to... you know. I just thought about it."

"This business with Parker really got to you? Is he still annoying you?"

"No, no. Parker's mum's a bit right on and PC. She was not amused about him picking on the one disabled kid in his year. So he sort of apologised."

Jon processed this. He'd have to talk to Ms. Parker, "You're not OK though."

"No. I miss hanging with Tom. Everyone seems to have moved on and I'm stuck as a bit of a loner."

"No one should pressurise you into conforming. Just be yourself Alex."

"Yeah crazy psycho Alex. I just love myself so much."


	12. Chapter 12

Things psychologically changed for Alex during a school trip. The weekend before the autumn half term, Year 11 were off to Manchester to view the new pool and velodrome constructed for the Commonwealth Games. Alex had never before swum in a 50m Olympic competition standard pool and was looking forward to it. Alex guessed he would be sitting and watching at the velodrome. Cycling on a ramped track was scary enough with feet.

Alex sat and stared at two of the athletes waiting for the school trip to end and their training session to start. One had a prosthetic arm and the other a prosthetic leg. Alex was wearing full length combats so you could not tell he was disabled. He shuffled over to the two guys. "So, you're on the British Team for the Paralympics?"

"Yes" said one of the guys in a semi sarcastic tone. Alex had just stated the obvious like a complete spanner.

"So my teacher was lying when he said I could not try out." Alex pulled up his trousers to expose his prosthetic left leg and then added "I really miss cycling since my accident. I used to have a really cool bike - a condor custom racer".

"So you want to try out? Come on, kid". The the two atheletes introduced themselves and so did Alex.

Everyone from Brookland was packing up to leave as Joe and Mike took Alex out to where the practice bikes were still against the side. Joe pointed at a bike. "That bike should do for short stuff here. Come on Alex get on and have a spin around." Two technicians held the bike and Alex got on like a kid for his first bike ride, his feet were strapped loosely in and he was pushed off. Alex was cycling, it was in fact it was easier than walking even with his weaker left leg. He stood on the pedals to gain momentum and went for two laps gaining speed. The bike had no gears or breaks so slowing down was a gentle easing off until the techs caught you. He was a bit shaky getting off and the team doctor wanted to check Alex's stump to make sure he had no chaffing. Alex bold as brass pulled down his trousers and exposed his two prosthetics and pulled off both legs. Joe muttered about a "lying little shit."

Alex added "you would not let me try if I'd told you I was a completely legless."

"You did good kid."

"I'm definitely getting a new bike."

Alex was quite sneaky, after half term he be bought a second hand mountain bike. Well used, but well looked after. Sixty quid. Alex had been given control over the child benefit, to buy clothes and such. Alex had spent it on a bike, a lock and a helmet. He cycled around Lambeth, it was like his accident had not happened. Pure joy. Alex cycled to Chelsea and past his old Dojo. He stopped and was tempted to look in when Carl, his Sensei, spotted him and beckoned him in. The class of Yellow belts had just finished.

Carl was staring at Alex's legs. "I can see why you stopped coming to class now. Car accident or a stupid stunt?"

"Boat Accident on holiday last year. My foster parents were killed."

Carl blanched and asked "Jack?"

"No, no. Social services classed her as unsuitable last summer. I was running a bit wild at the time. I was fostered twice, but I've been adopted since then."

"You doing any sports at the moment. You look pretty fit and healthy"

"Swimming at South London. Practices mostly. The disabled kids swim on Saturday at Brookland as well."

"I forgot you went to that dump. How is your mobility?"

"Fine. Walking OK. Cycling better. Can't run or jump. Best at falling really." Alex smiled cheekily at Carl.

"Very funny. Do you want to try a spar? Just to assess your standard."

Alex spared starting with simple moves, moving to block and was still quick at punches. Alex then forgot and tried a kick. Ending up on the floor in a heap.

Carl waited for Alex to stand and then they bowed. "Your reflexes are as good as ever. You like swimming?"

"Its relaxing. My zen now." Alex found it hard to imagine not swimming. He loved getting in the zone of lane swimming.

"Good for you. Don't be a stranger." Carl struck out his hand. Alex thought yeah I am getting a bit big for the hair ruffling Carl used to do. Alex shook hands and then put his hands in his pockets and realised he had not missed Karate for months.

"OK Carl. I'll pop back. Its just been a crazy year."

"I bet it has."


	13. Chapter 13

September 27th 2003 Loughborough

Alex had hated the train journey to Loughborough, traveling across London was shit. He was in for a physical, meeting with the nutritionist and the team psychiatrist over the weekend as well as the training sessions. He was not the youngest team member, but he was still only sixteen and a complete unknown as he had not previously made it to the national championships.

The national sports centre pool was 50m and ten lanes. Alex went through his usual warm up and then did four lengths each of each stroke for the two coaches and the sports scientists. His performance was videoed for review. There were no other Paralympians there this weekend. Alex had to fit his training with his study schedules. Alex's nearest 50m pool was in Guildford, a 40 minute train ride from home. Loughborough was an hour and a half away.

Alex sat with his bag on his lap looking over the interview table. "You swim well, Alex, but there is plenty of room for improvement. You broke the S8 record at the Southern championships."

"Yes" Alex did not roll his eyes nor add the cheeky comment on the tip of his tongue.

"Now that is quite unusual." Nigel Collingwood rechecked the paperwork. The kid had been at an able bodied swim meet. "We normally spot talent at schools level. So which school do you swim for?"

"I don't. I didn't really do sports at school. I used to sit on the side or swim laps on my own. According to Mr. Carlton cripples aren't winners." Brookland was now a memory, Alex had chosen to take A Levels with Becka at Lambeth Further Education College.

Nigel inwardly cringed at that comment. "So, you swim for South London?"

"Third reserve purely on the fact I never missed a practice for over a year. So, if four swimmers drop out I go. In fact, the southern championships were the first time I made the team. I train with Mark Lumbly sometimes, he's a C5, he came fifth in the nationals last year." Alex put his bag on the floor. This interview was dragging on. Alex thought it would be a straight you're on the team, great, good job.

"So you've had no real professional training or coaching."

"Bill Tavner corrects me sometimes, improved my turns a lot. But he's not a full time coach, just an helper, retired cop. The real coaches spend their time with the better swimmers. I like just training, doing laps."

"Right, OK." Nigel wondered how this kid had slipped through the net, surely someone should have noted the kid's talent and dedication. The team shrink would have to get the kid to realise he was world class. But the kid already just swam his own race. Something some swimmers never got. You could only swim as well as you could. It was all you're own game plan. "So what are your goals in the future?"

"For swimming S8 100m freestyle European record in April at the Nationals is do-able, Paralympic qualifying time definitely. Maybe try for 400m free or 200m individual medley." Alex then shrugged, "I don't know of my times are good enough for that though."

"What about Relay?" Team tactics might make Alex a bit more of a team player.

"You do relays?". That had caught Alex out.

"Its a bit different from the Olympics but yes we do relay both IM and Free. We will concentrate on those during the training weeks. We try different combinations of swimmers, different levels of abilities. So Bill mentioned you have a letter from your doctor?"

"Doctors. One from my Shrink, Rick and one from my GP regarding my dietary restrictions."

"Which are?"

"No dairy, no chocolate, I prefer not to eat red meat."

"Right. Are your parents vegan?"

"No just weirdos." Alex smiled at this after 18 months of Tom continually complaining at what Alex ate.

Nigel smiled at that. "What other training do you do?"

"Cycling. Both road and in the gym, pilates and weigh training. I was a real shrimp last year." Nigel was surprised not many double amputees cycled. He looked at this athletic, muscled and tall young man and could not imagine and a short underweight and scrawny kid. Alex then continued "I lost a lot of weight after my accident. I was ill on and off for the next year. I then really only shot up and put on muscle since my sixteenth birthday. I eat more meat and fish now. I really like sushi, ramen and tempura at the moment."

"Good, good. That will please the nutritionist. We won't have to wean you off eating crap."

"Yeah I had to give up coca cola though. I love that stuff and coffee."

"So you see a psychiatrist?"

"Twice a week." Alex took a deep breath. "Rick explains it all in the letter in nice clinical terms, but I was adopted when I was 14. Before that my uncle brought me up, badly. Neglect, abuse. I'm pretty self reliant and independent. I tend not to react to adult supervision very well. I get to talk about that lots with Rick. Some things I don't want to discuss with the shrink here. He only needs to deal with racing. Period. All other stuff is Ricks domain." Alex was shifting on his seat and looking at the door.

"OK Alex." Nigel noted the boys slight agitation. "So you're doing A'Levels."

"Yeah I did really well in my GCSE's, better than I thought I'd do. A* in Maths, ICT, Russian and Double English and A's in History, Double Science, French and Spanish, B in German and a C in citizenship.

"12 GCSE's."

"Yeah after missing six months of school in Years 9 and 10, not bad. I'd like to do my A Levels this year. Its possible. I already did two terms of course work at Brookland last year."

"So, clubs or other activities."

"No. I don't do clubs. I took part in the school theatre production last year. Didn't go back to drama club after christmas."

"Are you bullied?" Nigel asked as it was a fairly standard problem with kids coming through the school system.

"No more than anyone else." Alex shrugged again.

"Nicknames?"

"Psycho." Thank God, the Druggie nickname was a thing of the past though Alex.

"Because?"

"I'm a nutcase." Alex smiled. "I was the only kid in school in regular therapy."

"Police record?"

"Two arrests. No convictions."

"Really?"

"It was just after Ian died, my uncle. I was in the system and did not like it. I settled down when I was adopted. Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"I might have been questioned about some alleged hacking." Alex stated. They could not prove it was him so everyone in the Computer Science class had been told off. Jon had complimented Alex on his technique for hacking into John Rider's file at SIS. It have given all the chaps at encryption a good work out. Alex had been made to apologize to the whole of the encryption and computer maintenance department and had to tell them exactly how he had got around their firewall and security encryption.

"Is this likely to happen again?"

"No. I'm not allowed computer access unsupervised at college or at home now." SIS was also monitored his home computer and phone full time and probably the college ones as well.

"I'll make sure it extends to here then."

"Just to let you know I'm good at breaking passwords and I can also pick most locks." Alex then smiled.

"Right, go and see Mary our nutritionist. I'm afraid its twenty questions again."

"Super."

Nigel thought about the new team member, an orphan who had been in foster care, in trouble with the police and proud of his criminal abilities. He then read the letter from Richard Montrose, which was detailed and long. PTSD, depression, violent outbursts. Therapy and Anger management had dealt with most of those. Alex had physically attacked a fellow pupil after bullying incident at Brookland in Year 11. Confrontations with teachers. Internal exclusion on two occasions. Alex still unsure of sex and sexuality, at some point he would approach others regarding this. Montrose had put down Alex isprobably bisexual. Be aware Alex is susceptible to sexual abuse. Alex had been groomed from an early age to expect to be used sexually. Nigel put his head in his hands and then went to talk to Andy the shrink. This kid was a potential nightmare.

Andy spoke with Richard Montrose, Andy knew that Montrose worked out of Great Ormond Street and St. Dominic's. He specialised in the treatment of children who had undergone torture and children sold as slaves and groomed for prostitution. His talk with his colleague had only added to Andy's questions rather than answered then. Alex had already told Rick what could be discussed, very little in fact. Alex obviously had an open and very good relationship with Rick, which was healthy, but Alex was obviously in need of therapy.

Andy sat down and waited for Alex to arrive. Andy already had a file started for Alex.

Alex knew Andy must have already talked to Rick. Goody, Andy would want to know everything. Alex smiled like a cheshire cat and said hello. Play time.

"So Andy, just to let you know I have been in therapy since my accident. Intensive every day for two months then twice a week since then. My accident happened on the 24th July 2001, two boats collided on holiday in Cuba, my then foster parents were killed. Swimming has been part of my physical therapy since then."

"Do you like winning?"

"I have very little experience of winning. I have never swum with swimmers in my classification. So I normally come last."

"Does that bother you?"

"No, I generally improve my times. I can only swim as fast as I swim. I'm normally unable to beat my able bodied team mates, so why worry about it. The few times I have beaten guys at London, they got very upset about it. In fact, Derek physically assaulted me when I beat him, so winning is sometimes not a good thing."

"Was he banned?"

"No he changed clubs. He didn't want to train with a cripple." Alex noted that that statement caused Andy to scribble a short note.

"What sports did you do before your accident?"

"Running, cycling, swimming, football and karate. I was a 1st dan black belt at Karate and a scout from Chelsea had already tried to get me to apprentice there, my uncle turned them down."

"So you were always sporty?"

"Very. I always did physical activities on holiday with my uncle. Diving, water skiing, mountain climbing, kayaking and such."

"Sounds like fun."

"Yeah you'd think so. Ian also taught me lots of other useful things." Alex did not add 'How to pick locks, how to steal, how to drive a car, how to suck cock'.

Andy looked at Alex, guessing he was onto something, "How do you feel about Ian?"

Alex closed his eyes as that loaded question was asked. "I'm glad the bastard's dead." Alex did not add that he had met his uncles murderer and had sex with him. Alex still thought he was a sick little fuck for doing that. Maybe it was all revenge against Ian. Alex could not say he had not enjoyed sex. Yassen had been rough, brutal unforgiving. Everything Alex had needed to forever expunge Ian from the physical act if not from his nightmares. Funny he hated Ian, but his feelings for Yassen were much more confusing. Alex stared at the shrink and frostily stated "I don't want to talk about Ian. I get enough questions about that relationship from Rick. I still can't believe I used to hero worship that twisted fucker." Yeah Alex you still hero worship Yassen Gregorovich and that is so much more healthy. Alex knew there were tears in his eyes, before he reigning everything in and abruptly standing up. "I think were done here".

Alex went for a walk around the modern university campus. Fuck he'd probably just fucked everything up here. No way he'd make the team as he was too much of a fucking headcase. He phoned Rick. Calming, understanding Rick.

Alex then went back in and swam, swimming cleared his head. Nigel and Andy watched Alex Fletcher-Smith swim laps. Boy the kid knew how to push himself without instruction or encouragement. The boy by willpower alone had got himself up to international standard. All they had to do was guide him and keep him calm. Nigel thought maybe meditation and yoga might help.


	14. Chapter 14

Alex could feel someone washing him. The smell of antiseptic. Water and a soft sponge over his skin. "Papa?". Alexei. Alex thought it must be Alexei. Why wasn't he talking? Alexei's normally told Alex stories of Russia and his darling Vladimir, all in quiet soft tones even when Alex was not responding. It calmed Alex. Alex felt loved.

A strange voice answered in Spanish "A doctor will be with you in a moment."

Doctor? Alexei had never spoken directly with the doctors at Skeleton Key.

Alex asked in Russian "Where is my Papa? Is he here?"

The nurse finished cleaning Alex and dressing his wounds. Alex was redressed in a plain hospital gown and wrapped in sheets and blankets. Alex noted the old fashioned glass jar of saline attached by a tube to his arm. The medical bay at Skeleton Key had been modern clean and efficient. The doctor had been German.

The doctor came in and looked Alex's chart. The boy was awake.

The tall man sat on the edge of Alex's bed and spoke in accented Russian "Hello, my name is Doctor Inago Torres. What is your name, son?"

Alex answered in Spanish "My name is Alex...Alexander. Where am I?"

"Alex.. you are at the Cuban Military Hospital near Santa Cruz. Are you Russian?"

Alex looked at the Cuban. He could lie. What to say? Alex Sarov. Alex Gardiner. No. He might be damning himself but he would tell the truth. "I'm English. Alexander John Rider. Is Alexei here?"

"By Alexei, do you mean General Sarov?" asked the doctor.

"Yes."

Alex then woke. Fuck what a fucking time to have a nightmare about Cuba. Alex was sweaty. It was dark. Then he remembered. It was Jon's funeral today. Three days after his body had been flown home. Life had been surreal since last weekend, when training had been interrupted by Aunty Silvia turning up to tell Alex the bad news in person. Then Alex had had to endure Silvia Smith's very careful driving back to Lambeth.

Tony had been sedated when Alex got home. The house was full of family and friends. Madga had come over and hugged Alex and kissed Silvia in greeting. Both Aunties fussing over him as he was handed a cup of tea and two flapjacks to eat. Alex stared at the food, completely numb with the news that Jon was dead. Sylvia had taken over organizing tea, sandwiches and cakes for all the friends and acquaintances who stopped by. Alex crept upstairs when all the adults were busy chatting. Alex went and sat in the dark corner of Jon and Tony's bedroom where he was not in view from the door and sat watching Tony's drugged stupor.

Four hours later Tony woke to see Alex sat on the floor in the corner opposite his bed watching him. Alex's grief broke as soon as Tony beckoned him for a hug.

The funeral was small. Family and friends with a larger service at St. Thomas' Church in the afternoon. The mass had been organised by Sylvia. Alex had been to church twice with Jon and Sylvia at Easter. Jon was a very lapsed Catholic. Church doctrine making his chosen life a mortal sin. Alex knew enough to not embarrass himself or Sylvia. He sat at the front as Sylvia welcomed everyone with the priest. A large group of strangers sat with Sylvia. "Alex love, this is Margaret and William, Jon's Mother and Father" Sylvia then pointed " and Jon's brothers Desmond and Michael." The Sylvia addressed the strangers "This is Jon's adopted son, Alex."

"What they let queer's adopt?" said Michael Smith snidely.

"Only kid's nobody else wants" added Alex.

"Shussh" Silvia hugged Alex to reassure him. "Alex is a lovely boy, well young man now. A bit difficult at times but he was the apple of Jon's eye." At this Silvia smiled sadly.

"Jon was a great Dad" Alex added, looking at the floor.

Alex could not empathise with Jon's family. The family that had rejected him seventeen years ago, because he fell in live with someone of the wrong gender. They had never met Tony. Alex remained silent as Sylvia told them of Alex's achievements: 12 GCSE's, his studying for his A levels. How he had already sat his Computer Science A level. His being on the GB Swim team for the Paralympics.

Jon's mother then stated shocked "You're disabled?"

"Double amputee - no feet." Alex stated with a smile

Sargeant Dixon did a double take at the young man sat with his head buried in a book in the waiting room at Hereford Railway Station. In the two years years since he had last seen Cub, he had become a man. Alex was tall, fit and the spitting image of the John Rider, whom the Sargent had met in 1987, seventeen years ago.

"Hello Cub, I almost did not recognise you. Working on A Level coursework?" Alex looked up to see the Sargeant in full uniform.

"Morning Sargeant. Yeah maths. Got my Russian books to review as well."

The four days away had been a breather after Jon's cremation service, which had been followed with Tony taking a trip to scatter Jon's ashes. Alex felt completely lost when confronted with Tony's all encompassing grief and heart break. Alex had been quiet and withdrawn, as everyone tried to comfort Tony. Sargent Dixon had taken Alex to the other funerals, three members of the SAS had also been killed with Jon, and lastly to the memorial service at Hereford. Alex was sick of the suit and black tie as he sat in the Mess at Hereford looking at a luke warm cup of disgusting tea, four sugars made the oily brew just drinkable. His train home was not for another hour and a half. Alex was dreading it.


	15. Chapter 15

Athens was good and bad in equal measure. Alex was glad he made the team. He was at the peak of fitness but he had made some spectacularly bad choices in the last six months. Tony, like a man possessed, had worked almost continually since Jon's death in late January.

Alex had decided to move to Loughborough after ten days spent on his own in Lambeth. He'd transferred to a local college to finish his A levels. Life between training and school and not much else. He worked like a demon to sit for three A Levels in June. Alex had not seen Tony since July, when Tony had told him of his decision to move to New York. The house in Lambeth had been cleared and rented out, possessions placed in storage. Alex no longer saw his shrink Richard and missed talking over stupid things. Alex had meant to continue therapy but concluded the time was better spent training.

Alex looked at his two gold medals and listened to his relay team mates celebrate. Nobody commented on Alex getting up and going to bed. It was nearly dawn when Jake made it back to their room. Jake went to sleep and Alex got up. Alex stood in Phaleron War Cemetery and put his bouquet and laurel on the steps of the war memorial, as he had three days previously when he had won his first gold medal.

Alex had left messages for Tony during the first two weeks he had been in Athens, none of his messages had been returned so he had not bothered to let Tony know he had won any races. Tony was off in New York soaking up the limelight in a successful stage production. Four days ago, Alex had been quite upset with his sixth place in the 200m Individual medley heats, but all he got was Tony's messaging service.

Alex had overheard that the South African swim team were having a big party in their accommodation block tonight to celebrate the end of the swimming events. Alex would go visit the Parthenon today, then party like the world was about to end.

Alex did not notice the photographer taking his picture as he paid his respects to his parents and to his erstwhile fathers Jon and Alexei at the memorial.

Alex nursed a low-alcohol beer and viewed the party. It looked like none of his team mates were here yet. It was just after seven and the music had yet to start. Alex eyes were drawn to one of the South African team organising the party. Self assured, bossy, stocky and short. Dark hair and eyes. Alex licked his lips as he turned away. Alex heard someone call the man Steve. The music started, not that Alex would dance. He found a sofa pushed against the far wall and sat down. Walking up to the parthanon this morning had left his legs sore. Alex listened to the music through closed eyes as the party started to get lively. Someone sat next to him.

A deep voice with a south African accent spoke "Hello Alex. It is Alex isn't it?"

Alex opened his eyes to slits to observe the short stocky man, built more like a weight lifter than a swimmer. "Hi Steve. Enjoying the games."

"Sure am. I've heard some weird rumours about you. Half say your some poor orphan kid, withdrawn, abused, neglected and the other that your an aloof, arrogant loner? Which is the real Alex?"

Alex smiled "Loner yes. Very few people hold my interest." Alex then shifted to move round to press his body into Steve's personal space. "Swimming is my zen. Everything else is just annoying." Alex hand ran down his thighs as he stretched.

"Well I won my bet. I got you to talk to me. I was expecting you to tell me to Fuck Off". Steve was smiling as he said this.

Alex laughed "So was the bet just to get me to talk or anything else?" Alex was looking into Steve's eyes at this point. Steve looked ever so slightly uncomfortable. When Alex leaned forward and kissed him. Even with the loud music Alex caught the increase in talking in the room. Obviously, Alex was meant to have stormed out instead of enjoying an intimate moment. Steve was obviously a bit of a player. Well, Alex was not averse to being played.

Steve broke the kiss. "Not a virgin then."

Alex wondered who the hell had thought he was a virgin. "Shall we go to your room to continue our conversation." As Alex was led upstairs he could not fail to see Steve's hand gestures at pulling the enigma that was Alex Fletcher-Smith. Alex knew his team mates had all been told about Poor Alex, the sex abuse victim. Most had stopped interacting with him altogether after that revelation. Alex spoke to his training partners about training and a couple of the girls said hello, but that was about it. Jake his room mate was friendly with everyone. Alex missed his easy friendship with Tom, but Tom had left London and the suffocating relationship with his parents as soon as he had finished his GCSE's. Life in Italy with his brother Jerry was a long relaxed pursuit of pleasure.

Steve's room was neat and tidy. "My room mate has already gone home. No one to disturb us."

Alex sat on the bed "I hope you don't mind me removing my legs, but I prefer to relax without them."

"Go ahead make yourself comfortable." Steve watched as Alex removed his trousers, prosthetic legs and socks.

Alex stretched out on Steve's bed and asked "What do you prefer?"

"I'm pretty flexible, though I prefer to top."

"Good I like to be fucked." Alex sat up and pulled off his t-shirt, leaving just his boxers on, before adding, "I think you're wearing too many clothes."

It was a slow seduction. Alex pleasantly surprised as Steven took time to find out exactly what Alex liked and instead of a quick fuck. Their coupling was long, slow and intense. Alex felt like crying when Steve slowly pushed into him. Steve took Alex's shuddering to mean he had actually been a virgin and had soothed him and progressed with such gentleness until Alex had forced a change in pace. The couple fell asleep in each others arms. Alex woke early and shifted out of the narrow bed to use the facilities. When he returned he noted sleeping beauty had a beautiful erection. Steve woke to the fantastic sensation of being sucked off. "You sinful boy. Who taught you to do blow jobs so well?"

Alex sat up. "You really don't want to know. Shall I continue to blow you or do you want to fuck me again?"

"I definitely want to fuck you again." Steve drawled with a wide sleepy smile.

They both surfaced at lunch time and the wolf whistles sang out when they entered the canteen together. Alex had told Steve a little about himself. He also told him about his only boyfriend. Getting involved with Craig had been a major mistake on Alex's part. Craig had arrived as the new sports masseur and had homed in on the grieving Alex. Craig played the sympathy card and things progressed into a sexual relationship, until someone had told Craig about Alex's checkered past. Well, the officially sanctioned version of Alex's past. Craig had dropped Alex like a stone. Alex had even phoned Richard to ask advice. He might have left out the part of Craig being 25 and on the staff not someone at college. Getting burned was part of having relationships, eventually someone would accept Alex warts and all.

Steve let Alex hang out. Alex got to know the South African swim team who accepted him. He got to chat and flirt. Alex was almost a normal teenager.

After another night spent together. Steve questioned him, noting that Alex was probably bisexual. "So you fancy girls?"

"Yes well maybe. I went on a few dates with Becka's friends. Mostly they were complete disasters. I've become more comfortable in my skin over the past year, so I may try dating girls in the future. I'm more comfortable with boyfriends at the moment."

Alex then watched Steve on the prowl as other bright young things caught his eye. "Go ahead, Steve. I'm just think that the American you're eyeing up is way out of my league." Alex had surmised that maybe it was the chase that Steve liked. Alex just accepted the offered two day relationship. Slightly better than a one night stand, but luckily Steve progressed from lover to friend in one easy transition. Unlike Craig, who treated Alex like he had the plague, but still stared at him in a creepy way when no one was looking.

That night Alex returned to his room and the hushed whispers of his team mates, Jake came straight out and asked what had gone over the past two nights. "I connected with a guy on the South African Swim team. We hung out. He's after some guy on the US athletics team now."

"Steve the randy dwarf? He tries it on with everyone."

"He's worth a try. Attentive, great kisser, good sized cock."

"Shut up Alex too much information." Jake said with a sour look on his face, then he continued "Umm l Nigel wants words with you as well. Being underage and all."

"The age of consent in Greece is sixteen and is not dependent on gender or sexuality like the stupid rules in the UK." Alex said slightly pissed off. He was 17 now, not a child.

"How could I forget that your pa is a card carrying member of Outrage."

"I better go see Nigel and get my bollocking."

Nigel was sat in his office on the phone when Alex arrived to talk. Nigel had to handle all the publicity, team schedules and all the shit caused by a group of young adults away from home.

"Ahh Alex, close the door. It has been brought to my notice about your fraternisation with a certain member of the South African team."

Alex looked at Nigel with a bored look on his face "So?"

"Alex, we know you have had a sexual relationship with him."

Alex was in no mood to be pleasant or apologetic "So what, we fucked. Its not like I haven't done it before."

Nigel looked uncomfortable. "Alex. Maybe we should have set you clear boundaries. We have let you have a free reign, but you are still only 17. I know you have been to every training session and you have performed wonderfully, but you have left the village without permission and without an escort to wander about Athens on your own on two occasions. This relationship with an adult member of another team and spending two nights away from your assigned accommodation is another black mark on your record. I feel a curfew of 10pm to 7am needs to be enforced with no unsupervised or unescorted members on any other team in your room. I know that you may have picked up bad habits during the six months you've spent in the Halls of Residence at Loughborough. Your placement there was meant to have been a short term solution after your guardian died."

Alex listened, processed Nigel's concerns and acquiesced slightly "Yeah OK. I promise not to get help silver tongued South Africans to win large bets in the future."

"Bets?" Nigel was stumped now.

"Well you know everybody thinks I'm an antisocial, mentally unstable, loner. So... quite a few members of the swim team bet that Steve could not strike up a conversation with me. I have sneaky feeling the bet was about him not being able to persuade me to shag, but Steve was very good in that department so I have no complaints." Alex then smiled broadly.

Then Nigel countered with "Have you been sexually active long?"

Alex narrowed his eyes but was brutally honest "I had a brief fling in March which involved no penetration, just mutual masturbation. So technically not an criminal offense."

Just what the team manager did not want to hear, "Please tell me it was a student you were involved with."

"No member of staff. Your staff. I won't name names, but when he found out about my past he was convinced I was confused or mistaken about my consent or intensions or something along those lines. I'm happy with my sexuality thank you very much."

"Is there any chance of you living with Tony again?"

"No, he has rented out the house in Lambeth and settled in New York." Alex did not add that he'd rather be on the streets than stay with Peter and Madga. Peter was the one to suggest Alex give Tony some space to grieve. What the hell in another six months and he was an adult and should get a big enough allowance from his trust fund to live in a nice bedsit somewhere dingy. The one time Alex rang Dylan all he got was a 40 minute rant about Tony upping sticks and then bitch about Tony's American agent, Clarissa Schutz.

"Silvia Smith has offered to put you up."

Alex shuddered at the thought of the tight knit Smith family. Sylvia had grown closer to Jon's parents after his death as if the previous estrangement had not happened. "Yeah. I guess it could be worse. The digs in Loughborough aren't bad."

"Alex, you being placed in a university self catering accommodation was not ideal. I should have fought harder for a family placement."

"It was the best you could do on short notice, Nigel. Its not like I could not cope or anything." Alex could remember coping very well on my own at six in Paris, when Ian disappeared for two weeks, when the housekeeper was on holdiday.

Nigel was busy making notes on his lap top. "Try to go into Athens on escorted trips, your visit to the war memorial made it into the Greek newspapers and try to keep to the curfew."

"Sorry for being a nightmare."

"You're an angel compared to the drunken antics of some of your team mates. If you have any problems my door is always open."

Alex got up to go. "Thanks Nigel, for everything. Night."

Nigel looked at Alex leave. He knew he should have kept a closer eye on Alex. He'd been made aware that Alex had burst into tears after winning his 100m freestyle race. Alex needed an emotional outlet. At least Alex had made some friends here and was socialising. In the past six months all Alex did was study and train. Nigel wondered how the fact Alex had become sexually active had escaped him, but then Alex was very good at his emotionless mask.

Alex knew he should go and have dinner but he could not be bothered, so he went straight to bed. He had two new russian novels to read. He was on his own as Jake had gone out. Alex tried to read but everything felt off. Stuck in his room. He picked up his phone, completely forgotten for the past three days and switched it on. Three messages from Ben Daniels. Alex rang his number. "Hello Alex, Congrats on the two medals by the way." was the cheerful answer after Ben picked up.

Alex mumbled a quick "Thanks."

Then Ben continued "I have some bad news for you. Your godfather, Anthony Howell has died. I'm sorry I don't have any details except a phone number in Oz." Alex was a bit stunned. On autopilot he wrote down the number.

A quick goodbye and Alex sat back to collect himself before calculating the time difference to Sydney. He could ring in about four hours. Alex sat listening to the hustle and bustle of the village, watching the glow of the sunset disappear and the moon rise before ringing the number.

"Marc Damon" said an abrupt voice answered.

"Umm Hi I'm ringing about my godfather, Anthony Howell. I was told he had passed away. My name is Alex, Alexander John Fletcher-Smith but my birth name was Rider. Ben Daniels passed your number to me."

"OK Alex. I'm acting as executor to your godfather's estate. How can I help you?"

"How...How did Ash die?"

"Umm." The pause extended. Obviously the Mr Damon was unsure how to phrase his answer before finally saying "Mr Howell shot himself."

"Right. Suicide." Alex did not know how to react to that news.

"Mr Howell has left almost everything to you in his will. His assets include an apartment in Sydney and a Lodge in the Black mountains. He also had a fair bit in savings and investments."

"When did he die?"

"17th August. His funeral was held on the 25th of that month."

Alex paused "Actually, I don't want anything from Ash. Give it all to charity. Unesco, Children's Hospitals in Australia and the Paralympic Movement, whatever. The bastard was never there for me."

"OK, Alex I'll arrange the dispersal of his estate. I might have to reconfirm your wishes after you become a legal adult in five months. Is that OK?"

"Sure, arrange it with Ben Daniels or whoever at the Bank. Ben can normally get hold of me."

"Sure thing." At that Alex switched off his phone. Then took it to pieces to remove the sim card. He must have sat motionless for about 20 minutes, then he noticed the time 01:34, he needed to talk to someone.

Alex started to cry. Alex tried to reign the emotions in, box them up; but it was not happening.

Alex blinked wiping the tears from his face. "Why am I upset? Ash did not give a flying fuck about me. Last time I saw him I was seven. He left me with that bastard Ian. My parents wanted him to bring me up but he bailed" Then Alex ranted "Oh thats right no one gives a fuck about me. I have to get my facts straight". Alex stood up and started to pack his ruck sack. He was going to swim in the sea, sunbathe and forget about everything and everybody. Alex scrawled a short note and then left. At the gate a cleaner offered him a lift to the bus station.


	16. Chapter 16

Alex sat on the early bus to Patra. His decided plan of action was going off to Corfu and then to Italy and France. The bus journey allowed Alex to sleep for three hours. He bought a telephone card in Patra. He phoned Steve. It was an interesting conversation, the rumour in the village was Alex had gone off the deep end. Leaving a note with his desire to kill himself. Alex laughed and then told Steve he was off to relax at the beach. Steve finished by asking Alex where he was. Alex put the phone down. Maybe the note to Nigel had been a bit brief - _Just found out my godfather died - bastard shot himself, which totally sucks. I am a bit upset. Maybe see you back at Loughborough maybe not. Alex_.

Alex rang Nigel and got his answer machine. Alex was tired and stated "Look Nigel, its Alex... I'm sorry about bailing but I need to get my head straight. I just feel ... destroyed about my godfather topping himself. I wrote to Ash in the summer asking about visiting Oz. I wanted to know more about my birth parents. I never expected him to kill himself. Now, I want no reminders of my old life so I'm going to loose myself for a bit. I'm not coming back to Athens, so Cheerio."

The ferry was that evening. Alex found a bench on the boat and slept fitfully. It was early morning as Alex wandered slowly into Kerkira, a large bustling port and main town on the Island of Corfu. Alex's plan of action was to eat breakfast, rest in a local hostel or pension then travel to a small resort to relax in a couple of days.

Richard Warren was frustrated. All the models he hired did nothing to stoke his creative fires. He was in a rut. His compositions dull, lifeless and boring. He had even stopped taking commissions. Seven years since his last exhibition. He had retreated to his Kerkira villa and was almost a recluse. He needed a inspiration. He strolled along the town quay on this bright warm Autumn day and sneered at the few tourists wandering about, all too loud, brash and happy. Then he noticed the teenager with the intense face and old, old eyes, sitting on the quayside reading. Eyes like Richard's father, who had served in Burma and the Far East in the Second World War and who never talked about what he had seen and experienced. For the first time in several months Richard started to sketch. After 40 minutes the youth got up stiffly and shuffled off. Richard stayed sitting on the nearby bench. He'd been half tempted to follow the blond haired mystery, but he decided to take his usual route home.

The young man was sat down at Richard's favourite cafe drinking greek coffee. Richard sat in the chair opposite his potential muse.

Alex looked at the man who'd been watching him earlier and had now sat next to him. The man was dressed like a local with a tanned lined face and salt and pepper hair with matching beard and clear intense blue eyes "You were sketching me. Are you an artist or just a talented amateur?"

"I'm an artist, Richard Warren." Richard held out his hand.

Alex shook the offered hand and then introduced himself with a wry smile. "Alex Fletcher-Smith, student".

"What are you studying, Alex?" inquired the artist politely.

"Languages." Alex lied, he was studying happy people knowing it was a code he was unlikely to crack.

The waitress turned up with another greek coffee for Alex and Richard's usual Earl Grey tea.

Richard sat and stirred his tea, observing the young man across from him. Young, still a teenager, he'd bet but with a hard edge. A mystery on what had created such a strong, interesting person. "I'm looking for a new model. Are you interested?"

"Me?" Alex almost choked on his coffee. "I'm not model material."

"Really. You have an interesting face. Intense.". Richard did not add 'Sad or pained' to his statement

Alex looked directly at the artist, completely serious " I may have an interesting face but my body is another story."

"I think I'll be the judge of that. Could I persuade you to sit for me?" Richard tried not to appear desperate.

"Nude?" Alex asked half in jest.

"Ideally." Richard was now sure this young man would refuse.

Impulsively Alex smiled and finished his coffee "Sure, why not. I've got nothing better to do today."

Richard's home was a large secluded villa with a beautiful well tended garden. The rear ground floor was his studio with its glass bifold door opened onto the garden. Alex wandered in taking in everything, the bed, a sofa and several chairs surrounded by piles of canvases, pads of paper, shelves of art materials, three easels and jars and jars of brushes. Alex went over and pulled two chairs together and started to remove his clothes without being prompted. Richard watched as a finely muscled torso and arms were exposed. Alex was obviously very fit with broad muscled arms and shoulders, slim waist and a six pack too die for. Faint scars were visible in a strange network, if you looked very carefully. Sparse blond hair on his chest and a line of hair on the young man's stomach. A natural blond. Then Alex dropped his jeans and boxers in one revealing a fine cock, uncut, beautiful balls and muscular thighs. Alex sat to remove his jeans and revealed his prosthetic legs. Finally pulling the black metal lower legs off to show a short left leg with stump just below the knee and the lower right leg ending just above the ankle.

"There you go. I'm a cripple. Not model material. So I bet you're completely disappointed now." Alex stated as a bold challenge.

Richard just chuckled and picked up a new large pad and started to sketch the young man sat defiantly in front of him with absolutely no shame in his nakedness.

They did not talk. Alex moved to sit on the bed wearing his prosthetics. Richard continued to sketch. As the light began to fail Richard swore. "Are you staying locally?"

"The hostel by the bus station. Nice and cheap."

Richard knew the place, an absolute flea pit. "I'll get your stuff. You can stay here."


	17. Chapter 17

The next morning Richard found Alex swimming laps in his pool like a machine. The artist drank in the sight of the young man. Alex was butt naked, thinking if he was going to spend the day posing for Richard there was no point getting dressed in the first place. After an hour of laps Alex climbed out of the pool. Richard sat reading a book and sipping his third cup of coffee. Alex liked the fact Richard did not try to help. He let Alex get on with his stuff, respecting his space. Alex had left his legs in the studio so walked on his knees to the patio and sat down before helping himself to coffee.

"Good morning Alex. You swim very well." commented Richard.

"I've had lots of practice. It was a big part of my physical therapy to get me fit and well after my accident." Alex sat back and enjoyed the feeling of the sun on his skin.

"Car?" Richard speculated on the scaring and loss of limbs.

"No boat. My foster parents were killed." Almost the truth about Tom and Belinda slipping from Alex's lips.

"Foster parents?" A life in care. That alone would make a survivor.

"I was orphaned as a baby. I could say I was looked after by my uncle until he died when I was fourteen, but I was brought up by nannies and then a series of housekeepers." Alex now knew what parenting involved and his experience of Jon and Tony's warm, quiet, understanding, acceptance and love. Ian's best efforts were sadly lacking.

"Ah, the english disease. Neglect in the most well off homes." Richard quipped.

"Yeah." Alex not adding any details of life being trained as a spy from the the moment he could walk and talk.

Richard observed a change over Alex, from open and relaxed to hurt "What did your uncle do?"

"He told me he was worked in banking." Better not come straight out and say he worked for MI6.

"Told you? So it was a lie." Alex was obviously bitter about his uncle

"Yes, Ian was very good at lying."

Richard had the feeling that he'd just been told something significant. Not the whole story by a long way, but a fragment of truth. The artist noted the play of emotions flickering across Alex's face.

Alex added "My birth father and uncle weren't nice people. Professional liars and cheats." Alex did not follow that statement with killers.

"Ahh, Are you worried you're a chip off the old block?"

"I can lie, cheat and steal as well as anyone I know. I think I would prefer to have some meaningful and productive relationships rather than be a complete emotionless shit." Alex shifted in his seat and drank his coffee.

Richard was unsure how to follow that statement, so he picked up his pad and sketched this young man with his hard face, set with dark emotions. "Nothing positive about your dad."

"Everything I know is hearsay. He stuck by my mum, but had lovers."

"Not a good husband."

"No."

"How did your parents die?"

"Plane crash."

Going out on a limb Richard guessed "Not an accident."

"No." Alex could remember telling Yassen about his parents death. Yassen had looked at Alex with such intensity, Alex knew he had told Yassen something significant. His parents had been going into hiding, a new life in France cutting all ties to their past.

"Were you in foster care long?"

"No, seven months, a short spell in boarding school, three sets of foster parents, after then I was adopted." Alex looked up and smiled. "I got to be normal for almost two and a half years."

"Then what happened?" Richard was busy trying to capture the zephyr before him.

"My dad, Jon died. He worked for the GCHQ and was seconded to the peace keeping forces on the Afghanistan / Pakistan border. He was a communications specialist. Wrong place, wrong time and a road side bomb. Tony, his partner, was destroyed by his death. I was old enough to cope on my own, which is what I've been doing ever since." There you have it Alex thought 'My life since January'.

"Travelling?" Richard asked concentrating on sketching.

"Among other things."

"So, were you at the Paralympics?" Richard had actually surprised Alex. Not many normals knew about the alternative games, the Richard continued "Spectating or competing?"

"Bit of both." Alex remembered the day watching the athletics, when Steve had fallen in lust with the American T44 Blade runner.

"Swimmer?"

"Yes. Freestyle and Individual Medley. I'm better at Freestyle.".

"Maybe I should try some Hockneyesque pool paintings with you?"

"I don't think thats your style." Alex held Richard's intense stare, suddenly wanting this man too unravel all his secrets to know him fully.

In a quick motion Richard started a new sketch "So, brat, What is my style?"

"Getting to know something intangible and painting it. You want interesting, unique or just plain broken."

"Not broken, a survivor. My father was a survivor of the Japanese Prisoner of War Camps in Burma. He was a survivor. Silent, Strong."

"What does not kill you makes you stronger." Alex did not really believe this statement. Six months in operations had nearly broken Alex. The person that emerged from those trials had been almost lost in the real, normal world.

Richard recognizing the quote from Neitzsche "Exactly I'm a philosophical painter."

Alex laughed at this statement of pure bullshit.


	18. Chapter 18

Four days of talking about everything and nothing. Alex learned that Richard's wife had died six years ago. Depression had led him to loose his creative drive and forsaking his Cornish home, family and friends. His two daughters kept in touch sporadically. One had married and was expecting his first grandchild. Alex spoke of Jack, Ash, Ian and Jon. Loss and grief. Alex still hoped to reconnect with Tony, but their relationship had changed from parent/son to almost nothing. Alex had cut the apron strings, giving Tony space to heal and find his bearings after loosing the axis to his universe.

Later that week, Alex lay on the bed as Richard painted him for the first time. Quick strokes, bold impressions on the canvas, filled with colour. Richard pulled another cover and rearranged Alex to sit and another canvas was produced before nightfall.

Tony was exhausted. Theatre runs were draining. What had possessed him to tackle a musical. Tony was ecstatic he had learned to tap dance. He had noticed the usual weekly message from Alex was missing. The schedule meant he'd probably spent the last week partying with his team mates in Athens. Alex should be back at Peter's now. Peter had spent the last six months reassuring Tony that a bit of independance would be the making of Alex. Alex had been training hard and had taken his A levels. Tony had been so proud of Alex's academic achievements. In a few days he'd be off to Cambridge. His little boy was all grown up. Tony phoned Alex's mobile and a stranger answered. "Hello, Mr Fletcher."

"Oh hi Can I speak to Alex?" Tony was worried. Since the Lambeth Bridge incident Alex had always kept his phone with him. Something was not right.

"Umm Mr. Fletcher. Its Nigel Collingwood, we met in April at Sheffield. I talked to your brother earlier this week. Alex left Athens on last Monday, we've not heard from him since. He left his return ticket, bank card, his SOS bracelet and phone behind, but took his passport."

"Alex left. Did he travel back to England early?"

"Umm. He could have. He did not come back with the team."

Tony racked his brains but he had not heard any news from Sylvia or Peter. "What happened?"

"Alex's godfather died. Someone called Ash who lived in Australia. Alex was very upset."

Tony's blood ran cold at the thought of Alex's birth family. "What did Peter say about all this?"

"Errr, that boys will be boys. Alex was off enjoying himself and not to worry, and that he'd bollock him when he turns up for college in a couple of weeks."

"Well that sounds about right." Tony would not only bollock Alex but ground him until he was old and grey.

"Umm. Mr Fletcher, didn't Alex tell you he deferred his entry to Cambridge until next year. He was adamant about not returning to Loughborough this autumn. We'd already discussed his taking a break until February. I don't expect to see Alex for six months."

"Thank you for telling me. I think I have a missing persons report to file."

Tony phoned Ben Daniels who filled him in on his last conversation with Alex. Ben was a bit shocked that Alex had all but disappeared. Tony then phoned the mysterious Marc Damon. Alex had instructed the executor of Mr Howell's estate that he wanted nothing from Ash. An upset Alex had fucked off without a meaningful word to anyone.

Finally Tony phoned his brother.

"Alex has disappeared."

"Don't worry. Alex is off sunning himself before uni starts in two weeks."

"With no plane ticket and no bank card." Tony began to wonder just how big a bit of miscommunication he was dealing with.

"Alex needs to stand on his own feet. You were ruining that boy by mothering him."

"Ruining him... Alex is off god knows where with no intension of returning to England. He deferred his place at Cambridge. Alex is still 17."

"He did fine on his own at Loughborough."

"How many times have you seen Alex since January. I have seen him four times. So Peter why was Alex unusually quiet about my move to New York?" Tony was now seriously concerned.

"So he should have been, Tony. I told him in no uncertain terms to let you have some space. Loosing Jon was devastating. You need to think of yourself."

"So you have not seen nor spoken to Alex since July. Alex is off dealing with the news his godfather killed himself. The godfather that left him with that bastard Ian. Alex is still and will always be an abused neglected child profoundly affected by what Ian did to him. The news about his absentee godfather will have dredged up all that maelstrom of hurt and you say Alex is off sunning himself. I could hit you Peter. You promised me you'd look out for Alex." Then Tony changed tack. "I was under the impression he'd let you have his assigned family tickets."

"Tickets?"

"For his races in Athens." Tony could not face going to the Paralympics without Jon. The national championships had been hard enough.

"Come on, Tony. its not as if its a proper competition. Why would I fork out for flights and accommodation at ridiculous prices for some some trumped up right on second rate spectacle."

"You told Alex that didn't you, you bastard." Tony then put the phone down. Alex probably thought Tony could not be bothered about him and all his hard work as well. Shit Tony had talked to Nigel Collingwood and had not even asked how Alex did.

Sargent Dixon placed a photo on the noticeboard at Hereford, sent by Fox. The photo was of Cub holding two gold medals with a half smile on his face, a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. Fox had scrawled across it. 'Have you seen Cub? Last seen Athens 25th September 2004'. Cub was now a statistic, one of hundreds of missing teenagers.


	19. Chapter 19

Richard looked at Alex and told him "I want something different. Intense. Show me your soul Alex."

Alex thought long and hard and then recalled back to those few moments of delicious adrenaline rushes and others of pure orgasmic bliss. Alex sat back on the bed and began to stroke his cock as Richard watched. He would show him everything. Alex teased his nipples and balls while his orgasm slowly built. Alex lost himself to his ministrations. The act heightened by the fact he was being scrutinized under the artist's intense gaze.

Alex dozed, leaving his cum cooling on his stomach, chest and hand. Alex woke to Richard washing him down. "Of all the things I never expected you to do that."

"So are you completely straight then?" Alex asked.

"Ahhh. In my youth, before my marriage, I had a few male lovers."

Alex smile and stated "Well Richard. I like a nice cock."

"Do you now? You have a very nice cock, Alex."

"Does that mean you fancy me?" Alex looked at Richard's blue eyes and kissed him.

Richard lay next to Alex and groaned.

Alex laughed "What are you complaining about old man. You fuck wonderfully."

"You might have broken me. I haven't done that for years." Richard croaked after getting his breath back.

"I guessed that with the comment about using condoms. AIDs and HIV just passed you by. Getting tested sucks."

Richard pushed himself upon his elbows to look at his lover "You've been tested?"

"Yeah, when I was 14, I was very sexually active. When Tony and Jon adopted me there was a chance I was HIV. For once in my misbegotten life I was lucky. So safe sex from now on."

Alex grew a beard over the next couple of weeks. The bits of auburn were a bit of a shock. It made him look almost scandinavian. Alex sat by the pool as Richard slept. He was wearing the old bloke out with his insatiable sexual appetite. For a man who'd be celibate for more than six years, Richard wasn't doing bad.

Life was a dream, something would shatter the illusion of perfection for Alex. At some point the outside world would intrude. Richard spoke of love affairs and life partners. Some lovers lasted, others were of a moment in time. You just had to recognise the difference. Losing your life partner was not the end just another beginning. Alex hoped Tony had found someone to love.

Yassen Gregorovich looked at the highly classified interpol report filed about little Alex. 17 and from the photo a handsome young man. John's son had disappeared. A strange possessive feeling stirred in Yassen's gut.

It was the last week in November, cold and stormy. Alex's stumps throbbed with pain, God he hated when he could feel intense pins and needles in the feet that were no longer there. Richard and Alex had retreated into Richard's bedroom with its view of the sea. The morning was still cool and the storm had abated. Alex lay on his stomach, Richard had his fingers pressed in Alex's arse. Alex gasped as his prostate was stroked. Wonderful torture.

"Look at you. A wanton whore waiting for my cock to fill you." Richard whispered into Alex's ear.

Alex screwed his eyes shut and hissed, riding the waves of pleasure "Fuck me, now!. Oh God, Richard I need you. No more teasing."

Richard was achingly slow. Death by slow fucking. Richard had commented on tying Alex up to stop him touching himself. He moved his hands to feel Richards erect penis as it slid in and out of him. The artist responded with "You little tease. Touching me as I fill you up."

To that Alex clenched his arse hard around Richard and demanded "More. Harder. Faster. I want to be lost in the sensation of you."

Those moments of utter bliss were the few times Alex did not have to be reminded what a complete fuck up his life was. Even here, the edges of black depression were pressing in. He missed his easy home life. Alex was not a child. All his dread of growing up had come true in the worst way possible. There was no mysterious Ash to find and connect with. Tony was off being the great thespian. Jon was dead. Jack had walked out of his life with a disquieting ease. Alex had followed the promise of gold to Loughborough and Athens and lost contact with Tom and Becks in the process. Life sucked. Alex kissed Richard with hard desperation, as he came. As the older artist pulled out and lay on the bed, Alex looked at him. Richard had closed his eyes. Alex slipped out of bed and slid along the floor to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror Alex for once giving in to the self hatred of his crippled self.

Richard stood in the doorway "Thinking too much?"

"I wish I could tell you everything Richard. You get half truths and one word answers. After three years I'm sick of it. At what point do you draw a line under all the hurt and disappointment and just get on with things."

"I thought you were getting on with things?" genuine concern filled Richard's face

"I suppose." Alex looked down at the floor, unsure that he had got on with things. Life had been more like hiding, wallowing and denying. Out of the blue Alex stated "When I was sixteen, after I'd taken my ICT exams I did a bit of hacking."

"Anywhere interesting?"

"MI6 files."

Richard was genuinely shocked. "Jesus! Are you running from those bastards?"

"I...I hacked my birth father's file. He worked for them as a field agent. Under cover with terrorists." Alex then looked at Richard before continuing "When I was 14, I met an assassin. My father had trained him. I thought this killer was sexy, beautiful and terrifying. When I spent time with him, I was always on the knife edge that he'd kill me. My shrink told me that the fact he didn't is significant as I got a total psychopath to empathise with me. You look at me with the same intensity as Yassen. I still live in terror that he'll catch up with me." Alex continued to look at Richard, searching and hoping for understanding.

"Were you ... are in love with this Yassen?" Richard had moved closer to Alex and was almost touching him.

Alex closed his eyes "I don't know what love is. No, thats a lie. My feelings for Yassen are complicated. I know one thing now. I love you Richard. Its kind of crept up on me. Open, free and easy. Not possession and obsession. Just being comfortable. Letting everything settle in one place." Alex smiled a genuine smile. "I think my life makes sense because of you." Alex looked at the shocked expression on Richard's face. "I know its here and now. I'm not pressuring you into anything." Alex knew it was a beautiful moment in time. "I think we'll be friends after I leave."

"I think we'll remain friends as well". Richard paused and then re-asked his earlier question "So are you running from MI6?"

"No, running from myself mostly. I'll go back to England next year and try to be normal. I might reinvent myself so I can get away from all the lies I have to tell." Alex tried to convince himself his emotional baggage would not intrude on life as a student.


	20. Chapter 20

The end of November was fast approaching and Richard had enough pieces for an exhibition. He was on the phone to his agent after sending photos of the paintings by courier. Alex dressed for the first time in weeks and wandered into town. It was quiet only a few boats in the harbour. Alex went and bought a ticket to Venice for the sailing in three days. His sweet love affair was drawing to a close, Richard had his mojo back and was planning to move back to England. Alex had promised to look him up after his year off was completed.

Alex used up the credit on his phone card by ringing Ben, just before he got on the ferry.

"Happy Birthday, Fox"

"Alex?" Ben on the other end of the phone, used hand signals and the phone trace started.

"Yeah. I've been having a great time in Greece, drinking, relaxing, fucking. Mostly fucking though. How've you been? Saving the world? Wasting bad guys? Business as usual?"

"I've been great. Just came back from South America. Where in Greece are you?"

"By the fucking beach asshole. Weather's been shit recently though. Give my love to everyone at the Bank. Happy Birthday again but my credit is just about to run out."

With that the phone went dead. Ben then asked "How far did you get on the trace."

"North-western Greece. Possibly Mainland. Maybe Corfu. Not sure."

"Shit."

Alex expected to love Venice and was disappointed by how expensive everything was. He spent two days wandering, feeling very alone, watching happy couples and groups of friends and students. He did not eat much due to the expense and was glad to get the train west and go on into France. It had been three years since his last trip to Nice. He wandered along the seafront and smiled. James Hale had never really forgiven Alex for disappearing that summer three years ago. Not that Alex had a choice about it. He went into a bar and ordered a coffee.

Yassen stood by the bar and watched as Alex gazed across the street at the stormy sea. Yassen had hoped to sail his boat but the weather had seen him stuck in port. It seemed that fate was playing games. The russian almost smiled at his turn in fortune.

A man sat at Alex's table, Alex had not even noticed him approaching. Then he turned to see the face from his dreams and nightmares. Automatically Alex said "Hello Yassen" in russian.


	21. Chapter 21

Yassen looked at the beard on Alex's face, making him look so much like John, patches of red hair in all the same places. Yassen inclined his head in greeting, never taking his eyes off Alex

"On holiday or working?" asked a shaken Alex.

"On holiday. I wished to sail my yacht, but the weather is not so nice."

"I think that storm has followed me from Greece." complained Alex

"Have you been busy?"

"I had a lovely job on Corfu. I modeled for an artist for two months."

"Nude?"

"Yeah." Alex finished his coffee and his stomach rumbled. Alex was saving his euros for Paris so had not eaten today.

"You are hungry?"

"Very. Food is so expensive. I paid ten euros for a crappy salad yesterday." Alex did not mention the main problem was finding food was making sure that it was dairy free.

"Salad does not fill you up. Come I will buy you dinner." offered Yassen.

"Right. Thanks." Alex followed, picking up his ruck sack. Who in their right minds would disagree with a paid killer.

Within two streets, Alex followed Yassen into a small, plush boutique hotel. Yassen's room was at the rear of the hotel, next to the fire escape. Alex stood and listened to him order room service. Yassen's french was a fluent as his english. Yassen ordered a variety of foods stipulating the need for no dairy.

"You know about my allergy?"

"I know you swam very well in Athens, two gold medals and a sixth place. You no longer live with your adoptive father, Tony Fletcher. You have a place at Cambridge to read maths next autumn after completing four A levels this year. You have had three bouts of pneumonia and you have a major allergy to milk protein."

Alex looked stunned. Yassen continued "Hunter would have been very proud of you."

"Really?" said Alex as he looked at the ground.

"Now Little Alex, you are in need of a bath. I shall run one for you. Then you shall shave. Beards are for disguises and traveling."

"Umm I thought I looked distinguished." The beard also meant no one paid him a second glance at passport control.

Yassen helped Alex into the bath. He already seemed to know that Alex had problems climbing in and out of bathtubs, but left him to soak. He came back in after 20 minutes and helped Alex out. Alex sat on the toilet as his face was lathered and then Yassen pulled out a razor and meticulously shaved off Alex's facial hair.

Alex sat in a luxurious robe on the edge of the queen sized bed. His belongings had been unpacked by Yassen and his clothes had all been sent to the hotel laundry. Alex's two medals were on view in their cases, as was his wallet, his Paralympic pass and his passport were on the bedside table.

The food arrived and the waiter gave Alex a strange look. Alex had lost quite a bit of muscle since September with reverting back to picky eating. His beard had disguised how young he really looked, still visibly not quite an adult. Yassen gave the waiter twenty euros and dismissed him without a second glance. Alex ate with genuine gusto for the first time in a week, surprised by his appetite. Yassen only spoke once to remind Alex to slow down, eating too fast would make him sick.

Alex gulped down water and sipped the red wine Yassen had poured. Yassen laughed when Alex stated he didn't really drink. After Alex's second glass, Yassen started asking inane questions about Athens and swimming. After Alex's third glass, Yassen homed in on the fact Alex was wandering around Europe on his own and without parental approval.

"Tony was destroyed by Jon's death. He coped the only way he could by working, becoming super ambitious again. So Broadway called. I've read his notices. He should get some more film and TV work. I guess he'll moved to LA."

"Are you not part of Tony's future?"

"No. I want Tony to be happy. Hard to be happy with me about. Sad, crazy Alex."

"You no longer see a psychiatrist. You have lived independently for over eight months, with no problems. You are a very bright, driven young man."

"Do I look driven? I did what I had to do to fulfill my promises to Jon... Jonathan and I did my team proud." Alex ground out defensively, then deflated as all bravado bled out of him. "I have felt so empty since April. I thought I'd feel fulfilled and ecstatic qualifying for Athens but all it meant was just more practice, more work. I thought by copying Tony's modus operandi I'd find it easier to cope, so I trained harder, worked harder. Fulfilled my goals, just to still feel so alone but with two shiny bits of metal for all the work."

Yassen looked at the boy, no young man. Alex was now older than he had been when he himself trained with Scorpia. Alex needed to be shown that the world was one of possibilities. John Rider had trained Yassen to be the best, how to be independent and how to excel. Living on the streets in Russia had taught him all the hard lessons of life. Scorpia had just been a continuation of these lessons. John had taught him how to open up, trust, be a team, how to survive in every sense. Rider's favourite expression had been no man is an island. John had been open and free in many ways, sly and calculating in others. Alex was so like his father.

The assassin watched Alex as he looked out of the window at the bright moon. "Come we should sleep. It is late."

Alex thought it crazy that they had talked into the night like two friends on a sleepover. This was completely bizarre. Alex lay prone and completely still as Yassen settled in he bed beside him.


	22. Chapter 22

Alex woke before Yassen. Yassen looked relaxed and peaceful. Alex had never seen him asleep before. Alex was so tempted to touch him. Yassen spoke. "Have you been watching me for a long time?"

"About an hour."

Yassen opened his eyes and Alex took as sharp intake of breath. Yassen was still as beautiful as the first time Alex had laid eyes on him. Alex's hand touched Yassens's face and then they were kissing. Slow, tentative and like coming home. Alex dreamed about how Yassen tasted. Alex leaned over and dominated the kiss, kissing harder, deeper exploring Yassen's mouth. Wanting more. Alex trailed kisses along the russian's jaw and down his throat. He breathed out and gasped out "I want you so much."

"Then take me. I'm all yours." said the assassin with a smile.

For the first time in Alex's life, he topped. As he pushed into Yassen, he'd say he'd been waiting his entire life for this moment. Tight, hot and wonderful. He angled to brush past Yassen's prostate. Alex wanted Yassen to become undone. Lost in the bliss of fucking.

As they both lay in the morning sunlight. Alex stated "I've never topped before."

"You were waiting for me."

"Yes. I think I was."

"Have you had many lovers since Cuba?"

"Three. Well two were little more than quick fucks. Richard was the real deal."

"The artist?"

"Yeah, the artist."

"You should talk to your father. Tony has been trying to find you. He has contacted MI6 and they have sent out discreet enquiries. You are officially missing and yet you have crossed three borders unopposed. Little Alex running rings around MI6."

Alex felt like sulking, but that strategy would not work on Yassen. He nodded his head and acquiesced. "I'll call him tonight".

Alex knew Tony's mobile off by heart. It was 10am and Tony was enjoying brunch with a married couple he'd met and befriended. Tony noted the phone number with the French international code.

Alex spoke first "Hello, Papa. I hear you miss me"

"Where are you, Alex?"

"Nice. Some Hotel on the Rue St. Honore."

"Are you coming to stay with me?"

Alex was a bit flummoxed "What in America?"

"Yes in America, LA."

Alex mused on this statement "I thought you needed space."

"I know Peter told you that, but I never meant to give you the impression I wanted you out of my life. You are my son. Never forget that we're family Alex. Jon would not have wanted us to become estranged over a stupid lack of communication. I miss my baby boy."

Alex was lost. Yassen watched as Alex's tight emotional control broke down and the young man cried. The dam holding back too much grief and hurt under tight control for far too long broke. Alex put down the receiver.

Tony was frantic. He called the number registered on his phone. The Hotel Azure had no guests called Alex Fletcher-Smith on its books. Tony was about to call MI6 when Alex phoned again. His voice sounded raw from crying "I'm booked on the Paris LAX flight in eight days. I'll see you then." The phone again went dead.

The next morning, Yassen took Alex to see his boat. It was a sleek ocean going yacht with cabin. The weather was still stormy, so they retired back to the hotel. Yassen looked at Alex. Even now he could see that Alex was not happy. "Since I cannot sail would you like to come to my villa?"

"You have a villa?"

"Yes 20km north from here. There I can relax. Hunt, fish, hike and swim."

"Sounds nice."

Yassen the touched Alex's face. "I will tell you all I know about your father and our time together. I will teach you what he taught me."

"I'd like to know more about him."

The drive north was in total silence. Yassen pulled onto a small mountain road and stopped at a small farmhouse. Yassen began to describe the area. "The river is about 1 kilomtere north-east of here. There is a village 5 kilometres over the ridge. There are no distractions here. I relax totally."

Yassen opened the door. The house was basic. A cooker and a sink in the kitchen. Tinned foods on the shelves.

"This is your home?" Alex questioned at the house not much more than a hovel.

"One of my homes. To succeed as an assassin you remain on the move and only share personal information with those you trust." Yassen smiled and looked intensely at his companion. "You told the Cubans and the CIA everything about MI6 but details about Alexei and myself you have kept to yourself".

Alex looked the bare room and spoke softly, "I just didn't tell them everything you told me. My secrets and yours. I never told them what you told me about Hunter. Tony and Jon never understood. They only saw you as a bad guy. Life is not black and white. You were as trapped by the situation at Skeleton Key as I was." Alex looked at Yassen and smiled.

Yassen noted the smile was genuine even if fleeting. "I have had my revenge on those who ordered me to hurt, to kill you."

Alex walked into the room and sat on the sofa, stretching out. "We survived."

"Yes we both did. You are so like John in so many ways. Your working so hard over the last year has proved it."

"This year has been so hard. Not with training or finishing school. Just with being alone. I miss Jon so much. Tony just found it so hard to cope without him. Stupid things upset Papa so much." Silence and loneliness had been Alex's constant companions.

"We both need to relax. Just what holidays are for."


	23. Chapter 23

Alex lazed in the warm low sun on a blanket spread on the ground outside Yassen's shack. Alex refused to call it a villa. Yassen came outside and sat next to his young lover. They had relaxed for six wonderful days. Yassen had worked with Alex like a possessed physical therapy instructor. His plan was to push Alex's very comfortable boundaries. They had hiked and gone potholing, rock climbing. Alex had found things easier without his prosthetics.

Alex looked at Yassen and stated "I don't want to leave you."

"I don't want you to go, but soon I will work again and I cannot endanger you in my world. My enemies would use you against me." Yassen invited Alex into a hug.

"I know. MI6 would jump at the chance of destroying you as well." Alex was deadly honest "I would rather die than betray you, Yassen."

Yassen stroked the young man's hair. Alex clung to the russian. Then Yassen slowly stripped the younger man, slow savouring of all that was Alex. Yassen wanted to keep Alex for himself, but Alex was too fragile at the moment. He needed to mend his relationship with Tony. If anyone deserved family it was Alex.

Yassen had put him on the TGV at Nice and had then kissed Alex softly and tenderly, whispering farewells in russian in the younger man's ear. Old and new lovers and the promise of future lovers as well. Alex was confused by Yassen, but he was lying to himself if he ever thought he would openly defy him.

"Safe Journey, Little One". Yassen said after one last kiss.

"And you, beloved" Alex said to the retreating figure.

Alex hated Airport security. At least arrivals were better than departures with the 'Take off your bloody shoes'. Ha! Off came two prosthetic legs as Alex hobbled through the metal detector. The security staff loosing a bit of composure. At least one if them carried his prosthetics over for him for him to put them back on. Alex could feel the eyes of the other passengers on his back as he strode through to the departure gate, ignoring the airport ground crew who asked if he needed a ride or a fucking wheelchair.

Tony waited in arrivals for Air France flight from Paris to land. He'd contacted a therapist recommended by his friend Ian. Alex had sounded rung out and far too emotional for the quiet controlled young man Tony had left in July. What the fuck had Alex been up to? Where had he been and who had he been staying with? Tony was seriously worried.


	24. Chapter 24

Alex stood in the queue in the hall full of passengers waiting for passport control. Each and every passport scanned and checked, each passenger questioned. Alex shuffled forward, but his mind kept being drawn back to the last few days.

Alex looked up and stared at the officials in their booths. He schooled his expression and brought his thoughts to here and now. His hand touched the medals in the pouch pocket of his hoodie.

Alex stood looking both bored and annoyed as his passport was scanned. Alex watched out of the corner of his eye as two agents moved to intercept him. The official then told him there was a problem with his passport.

The room made Alex feel claustrophobic. He saw the camera. Alex's nervousness had translated into the nerves on his left leg twitching annoyingly. At least he was wearing shorts. He pulled off his leg massaged the stump before replacing his prosthetic. The wait was actually shorter than he anticipated as two men came into the room. A tall handsome black guy and an older grey haired man with a tired face and eyes.

"Hello Mr Rider. We have sent an agent to collect your father in the arrivals hall. You are listed as missing. Care to talk about that?" stated the black guy, all business.

"I spoke to papa last week and told him I was coming to the states. I have a multi-entry visa in my passport. What is the problem?"

"The problem Alex...I can call you Alex?"

At this the young man shrugged and stated "Its my name"

"The problem is you completely disappeared off the radar. It does not help the fact you got through passport control at Paris with barely a glance. A full interpol alert was out on you because of you associations with a known terrorist."

"Are you a member of Byrne's spook squad then?" Alex said sneering.

"I cannot confirm nor deny that fact. Just answer the question."

"You guys already know who paid for my plane ticket. You probably already have CCTV from Nice. French Security won't play ball with you cause Yassen is on their books. I'm sure he does off the record work for you too. So what is the problem. Yassen invited me to stay for a few days in his 'villa'. The place will be clean and have no visible connection with him. Yassen is far too careful to get caught with his pants down."

"What have you been doing for two months in Corfu?"

"I got a job. I took my clothes off and got paid for it. I was a model for an artist. Richard Warren. He's quite famous."

"So you just worked for him?"

"Yes, I got paid 100 euro per painting and 40 euros a day for sitting. I earned in total 7000 euros cash in hand. No bad for laying and sitting around all day looking pretty."

"How did you meet up with Yassen Gregorovich? Did he contact you or did you contact him?"

Alex smiled and leaned back stretching. "He scared the living daylights out of me. I was sat drinking coffee in a bar in Nice on the waterfront, when the bastard sat next to me. Maybe it was kismet, but knowing Yassen he could have been following me for days."

"He stalked you?"

"Don't ask me. I'm smart enough to know you don't antagonize a man like Yassen Gregorovich. He told me to go with him. I followed. He told me to strip and wash. He played nice. We fucked. We talked. He told me papa was worried. I was under the impression after Tony did not care after he did not return my calls from Athens, OK. I have had a lifetime of dealing with adults that don't care. I kind of expect it. I'm here only at Yassen's insistence that I try and mend my relationship with Tony."

"You have a sexual relationship with Gregorovich?"

"Yes since I was 14. We fucked during our time together on Cuba... Doesn't Operation Skeleton Key ring any bells. I was there as part of the Covert Operations surveillance of Alexei Sarov. It was one big CIA fuck up from start to finish. Cost me my legs, my home and my innocence." Alex really wanted to lash out. His nails dug into his forearms.

The older man then spoke for the first time "Alex can we get a doctor to look at you?"

"I'm clean of DNA. Yassen was careful, used condoms and everything." Alex was gripping his arms hard enough to bruise.

"We're not looking for evidence Alex. We just want to make sure you're OK"

"I'm well used." Alex stated with a half laugh, half sob. "I haven't been OK since Jon died."

The black guy then spoke again "John.. who's John."

"Jonathan Smith.. my other dad. Tony's late partner. He died working for MI6 in Afghanistan or some other neighbouring shit hole. Killed by Taliban or Al Queda with three guys from M-unit SAS. January this year." Alex took a deep calming breath and was back to being emotionless. He was well practiced at stomping down his emotional baggage.


	25. Chapter 25

Edward Pleasure was happy to be sitting in his old local around the corner from the Guardian offices near Kings Cross, London. He was meeting his old friend Frank Clark, a freelance sports reporter. Many years ago they had been at uni together,

"Good to see you Frank. Its been too long." Edward hugged his old friend.

"Well, stranger. It looks like San Francisco agrees with you. How are Liz and Sabina?" Edward sat down and to drink from the pint of beer Edward had bought him.

"Liz's doing some film costume work and really enjoying it and Sabina's started College, English major at Berkeley." Edward was over in London on his own, meeting with his editor for his new book.

"So you're all settled over there?" qyeried Frank, they had been in the US for three years. Sabina was 18, nearly nineteen now. Frank still remembered a young girl with bunches in her hair.

"I think until Sabina graduates." Edward was unsure if they would ever return to England.

Frank looked at his friend, the burns from the fire in France three years ago had been superficial, the damage to Edward's legs meant the man still had a heavy limp. The Pleasures had gone into hiding until Edward published his book on the dark side of Damian Cray. They'd all liked the States so much, Edward had stayed out there. That bastard Cray had died in mysterious circumstances in Thailand after disappearing under the radar. Rumours were he'd crossed some triad.

"So what's new in the world of sport?" inquired Edward of his friend.

"Actually, I have a story which might interest you concerning a member of the Paralympic swim team."

"Really?" Edward was perplexed, but very interested in what Frank had uncovered.

Frank grinned having got his old friend's interest. "Yeah, the youngest member of the freestyle relay team, a seventeen year old called Alexander Fletcher-Smith disappeared during the games. Well I did a bit of digging, the kid's dad died in Pakistan last January with three members of the SAS. He was allegedly a freelance telecommunications expert."

Edward immediately connected the dots, "So, the kids dad was a spook."

"Yeah, the interesting thing is the kid was adopted three years ago by Jonathan Smith, the said spook, and his partner Tony Fletcher." Frank then took another long gulp of the excellent bitter.

"The Actor?" quizzed Edward.

"Yeah. I tried to speak with Tony, but he put the phone down on me. You'll never guess who visited me the next day." The old hack enjoyed spinning out his yarn.

Edward smiled. "Some gentlemen working for the Home Office, by any chance?"

"I got two creeps from Special Branch telling me not to publish as it was a breach of the Official Secret Act." Frank said in a top that you award winning bastard sort of way.

"A teenager running away was an official secret?" Edward was now fully intrigued.

"I'll never know. Nigel Collingwood, the swim team manager, who initially was fine talking about Alexander, won't answer my calls now. All very conspiracy theory."

"So you have a picture of this kid?" Edward asked before finishing his pint.

Frank fished out a photo from his briefcase "Yeah, here you go. Him and the rest of his relay team. Alexander Fletcher-Smith is the one scowling to the left."

Edward almost dropped the photo. Frank could not help but notice the colour draining from Edward's face. "This kid was disabled, how?"

If Frank did not know any better he;d have guessed Edward had met this kid before. The sports reporter stated the facts from the kids Paralympic personal details. "S8 - double amputee, both lower legs. Accident in late July 2004 killed the kids previous foster parents. They were both yanks. Do you know this kid?"

"Yeah. He came on holiday with us in early July 2004, he'd been a ball boy at Wimbledon with Sabina. He was involved in a surfing accident while we were in Cornwall. He nearly died. We lost contact with him after that." Edward was perplexed Alex, Alex Rider lived with his housekeeper and did not have foster parents. Facts did not add up.

"Same kid?"

"Same kid, called Alex Rider then. He lived at Cheyne Walk, Chelsea. Sabina tried to contact him that Christmas. The house was rented out in August 2004. His guardian went back to the States, alone."

"Fuck Edward, if this isn't a story I'll eat my hat. What was his guardian called?"

"Jack Starbright." Edward said absent minded, thinking about his daughter's friend crippled in an accident just after they'd last seen him.

"Find him and get some answers."

Edward mused on the disjointed facts, "This kid was involved in a catching a triad thug at Wimbledon. I never followed anything up because of the death threats and the fire that summer, it was months afterwards Sabina wanted to catch up but we had no forwarding address."

"I smell another Pulitzer prize winning book." grinned Frank.

"I'll have to be very careful. Sabina was very upset when he disappeared, she was convinced that the triad had got to him. Shit I'll have to use some very deep sources for this." Edward was already going through his list of possible contacts.

Edward stood in the pub in Gloucester. His SAS contact came in and stood next to the journalist in the crowded bar. "What do you want, Pleasure?"

Edward had helped out on some info on an undercover operation several years go, his contact was always good at giving him snippets to follow up, never enough to break OSA but enough to set the journalist on the right track. "I want you to look at a photo and tell me if you know who it is?

The man smiled at the photo. "A copy of this is on the notice board at base. So you looking for Cub then?"

"Cub?" Edward wondered about the nickname and then remember all current members were given animal code names. "The kids name is Alex. I knew him as Alex Rider. His adoptive name is Alex Fletcher-Smith. When did he cross paths with the SAS?"

"Kid trained at Brecon in March 2004. Part of K Unit." The soldier said shortly.

"Christ! What was a 14 year old boy doing training with you arseholes?" Edward was amazed and shocked at his contact's relevation.

"You'll have to ask Alan Blunt or Tulip Jones that question. So where did you meet our Cub?" The soldier looked genuinely interested.

"He met my daughter in late May 2004. They were fast friends. We had to go into hiding that summer as you know. We lost touch. I've only recently found out about Alex's accident and adoption." Edward explained.

"Accident? Accident, my arse. That's a cover story and you know it. Fucking CIA operation in Cuba was a complete FUBAR from the start. Alex is still getting over what Scorpia did to him." The soldier then calmed himself quickly, most of the regiment were still upset about what had befallen their erstwhile adopted member.

"Scorpia?" The name was semi-familiar but Edward could not quite connect the name to any story at the moment.

The soldier's whole attitude changed to annoyed arrogance, "You know shit, Pleasure. Keep your nose out of this one. Leave Alex and his pa alone or our sergeant will make you regret it."

"A threat?" Edward was genuinely shocked at his contact;s change in attitude.

The man was now smiling like a shark, "A promise. Cub's birth father was SAS. He's family. Got it, reporter."

"I've got it. Thanks for the info." Edward had the CIA and Scorpia leads to follow. Finding Alex was secondary. This story was big, way beyond a missing Paralympic swimmer.


	26. Chapter 26

Tony sat and listened as the two agents told of the disaster that had befallen his son. His son's torturer and rapist had caught up with him and Alex was sat dealing with the consequences. That bastard Yassen Gregorovich had told Alex to come back to his father. It was like some sick and twisted game to let Tony know he'd dropped the ball and Alex had paid the price. Tony was totally unsure on how to proceed. He had sat waiting for the Air France arrival fully expecting to rant at Alex for disappearing and to ground him for the foreseeable future, but now? His son was probably closed off and completely detached from any form of comfort and would treat any attempt at reconciliation with open hostility.

Tony was led into a horrible grey room where Alex was sat. His son looked drawn and thin. Alex had lost any weight he'd gained from a year spent on his high protein and high calorie diet. Alex had stopped swimming, the one thing that brought him peace and a sense of perspective.

Alex stared at his father with cool resentment.

"I'm sorry. I've been completely self centred." It was a small apology but Tony had to start somewhere. "Jon completely indulged my selfishness. We were both completely and utterly absorbed in our work before you came along. Work has been my coping mechanism. I needed to loose myself in the comfort of being someone else. Its always easier than dealing with your own pain."

The expression on his son's face softened somewhat. "You were grieving." said Alex reasonably. "I would have stayed away. I want you to be happy, papa. How could you be happy with me? I ... I'm completely lost. Jon meant so much to me to." Alex looked at Tony. His papa was thinner too. His body had changed in subtle ways. Alex knew he had taken up dancing quite seriously in the last eight months. "Are you working?"

"Yes, I'm late for work as it is. TV series, guest spot for a whole series, the regular actor had to go back to England to sort out his life. Divorce and custody battle." Tony then stopped talking and looked hard at his son. "Nice diversion tactics there. I'll always talk about work. How bad are your legs today? A seven or an eight." Tony had noted the greyish tinge to Alex's face, the pinched look around his eyes. His son was in pain. Something Tony suspected only he would notice, Alex was an expert at avoidance and diversion. Alex just stared at Tony with his flat emotionless face. Tony went to the door and asked the Agents waiting there "You mentioned a doctor? My son is exhausted and in pain, which is not a good combination."

Alex let the medic examine him. Alex took the offered painkillers. He really needed to sleep. He felt like a stranger in his own body and wondered if the last ten months destroyed his relationship with his papa?

The older agent talked to Tony Fletcher. "We will need to talk to your son in a couple of days. Alex has been given permission to stay in the United States, his visa has not been revoked." The older agent then handed over his card. "My name is Arnie Graves. The card has my home number on as well. Get the kid to see a doctor, I'll send through a couple of names for therapists with Departmental clearance." The guy rubbed his face. "We all seemed to have let Alex down on this one." The guy looked at the kid, who looked broken and afraid of any comfort and reconciliation.

Alex was groggily mumbling in what Tony recognised to be russian as he pulled into his parking space at the studio, only two hours late for work. His assistant Michael was there with rewritten script pages looking harrassed.

As soon as Tony exited his Range Rover Michael let loose with a string of instructions and directions which Tony pointedly ignored, instead going to the trunk and removing a wheelchair. Tony carried on as Michael's voice stilled.

"Umm Tony? What's going on?"

Tony opened the passenger side door to reveal his sleepy son. "Michael, this is Alex, my son. As you can see Alex is severely jet lagged and has taken some pain medication and needs to sleep. I was hoping he could crash in your office. He does snore and talks in his sleep, luckily mostly in russian, sometimes other languages." Alex smiled sloppily in his drugged haze at his papa and clumsily made it into the wheelchair supported by Tony as Michael watched, unsure if help was needed.

Tony then continued, "I made everyone here aware I needed today and tomorrow off for family reasons last week. I have not seen my son for five months and he's been missing, presumed being an irresponsibly stupid teenager for the last three months. I've just sat through a delightful interview with Homeland Security and I will not discuss work until Alex is settled and you promise to watch over him. Otherwise I am taking Alex home and you can stick this job where the sun does not shine." Tony smiled brilliantly as Michael quickly nodded in agreement with the actor.

Michael's office contained his desk, several chairs, filing cabinets and an overflowing bookcase, but also an old sofa. There, Alex lay down with Tony removing his prosthetics. The youth started talking in fast slurred French to Tony, who replied in soothing tones. Tony laid a rug over his son and then stroked through his son's blond hair as the teenager started to snore gently. The quiet scene was disturbed by the assistant director entering but before his tirade at the errant actor could start Tony put his finger to his lips and then took the pages of script from Michael and turning to make his way to wardrobe and make-up.

Tony was now all business. He arrived on set with a face like thunder, waiting for the director to start. Sam Turner, the director was another ex-pat and knew about Tony's errant son.

In a soft understanding voice Sam queried, "Everything OK Tony?"

"No. God no. Alex is a mess. I don't need this today, but I'm here lets get on with it." Within ten minutes the other actors were at their marks. After only thirty minutes to memorize the script, Tony was word perfect, his characterisation spot on. Sam knew Tony was a trooper in every sense of the word.

At their first break things went down hill as a trumped up exec came and made a comment about Tony being late for work. Sam watched Tony smile, the exec was expecting the usual soft apologies and the easy gracious tones of the lovely man everyone knew Tony Fletcher to be, but today Tony was worried and not in the mood for fools.

"Ahh, Mr. Stein. Thank you kindly for your words at this time. Funny as my contract is currently being written at the moment. I was employed for three days work on your fine televisual serial, three weeks ago. Fill in, temporary character and all that. This work has over run by ten days already and no updated contract of employment. So, my character is now integral to the series, for some reason the writer has decided I must fill in because Nick has gone home. I'm happy to work, always. This morning my son, you know Alex, seventeen, physically disabled with psychological problems, arrived at LAX. I did arrange two days off work, Alex is difficult at the best of times. He was pulled in by Homeland Security this morning. Hence the two hour delay. I came into work even though I should be at home with my son repairing our strained relationship. Urgent, essential, critical rewrites or some such reasons were given and here I am. My son is asleep in Michael's office at the moment. Alex suffers from ghost pain in his legs, it can be quite bad. Worse if Alex is stressed. Alex hates flying. So he's stressed and in pain and still I am at work, so keep your nasty little comments to yourself or my equity representative will be filing harassment charges against you."

Hugo Stein just stood and stared at Tony Fletcher at this point. Tony appeased by the shocked silence, then finished, "Good, I'm glad we have reached an understanding. I really need to get these scenes nailed because I want to go home." It was then that another four pages of script arrived and everyone held their breath as Tony accepted the additional dialogue.

Sam took his copies of the additional pages and then stated, "We'll worry about the first scenes then we'll take a break before starting on the new stuff. OK places everyone." Tony put his script on his chair and carried on like the professional he was.

Alex looked at his watch, it was 6:30pm Pacific time if his math was correct and it usually was spot on. He put on his legs and went in search of the restroom. He looked better than he did this morning, still too thin and he could do with more painkillers. He sat on the toilet and massaged his left thigh, the muscle spasming. He arrived back in the office and sat on the wheelchair as Michael arrived back.

The man looked unsure and nervous. "Umm, OK Tony has about 20 to 30 minutes until a set meal break, then a couple more scenes to film. Would you like to eat?"

At this point Alex's stomach rumbled. "Yeah I could eat."


	27. Chapter 27

Alex uncharacteristically allowed Michael to wheel him to the canteen. He was far too tired to walk or to wheel himself anywhere. Michael had not put the rug over Alex's legs, like Tony always did. Alex found himself suddenly wanting his papa and hating he was here at Tony's work place several thousand miles from a home. A home in reality that was part of the past. Alex rubbed as his left leg as continued to protest and throb in pain. Alex then put his hands into the pouch pocket of his hoodie. There safely stowed was still his passport, wallet and two Paralympic medals.

The canteen was a huge open space, similar to eating at school. Alex could feel eyes on him, conversations stilling as people turned and stared. They got to the food serving counter and Michael asked "What would you like?"

"Anything that does not contain dairy. I'm allergic. As in really allergic, OK"

"Right, no dairy."

A tray with one meal of plain burger and fries was offered and Alex just said "OK but double portions. I'm really hungry."

Michael sat and watched Tony's teenage son demolished the tray of food. Anybody seeing the food would have thought it was for both of them. Michael then looked at the kid. It was hard to really tell how tall Alex was, but he looked a lot taller than Tony. The broad shoulders, chiseled good looks, tanned skin, brown eyes and blond hair, the kid was a handsome young man. Talented as well. The kid had mumbled in russian and spanish in his sleep, and he'd talked to Tony in French. Tony could speak french like a native anyway. Tony had said Alex had already got a place at Cambridge, taking a year off after finishing school at 17. Michael knew Alex had taken off on his own after the death of his godfather, seven months after the death of Tony's partner. The kid had been questioned about disappearing. Tony's kid was an enigma. It was strange for Michael to be babysitting, rather than being sat gossiping with Tony or arranging meetings and scheduling parties and appearances. Michael then noticed Alex had not spoken to him except to answer direct questions. The boy was described as difficult. There was more to him than that. Alex was withdrawn with bleak pained eyes. The assistant could only guess at the boy's troubled and probably horrendous past.

Alex was sat eating, not really caring at what he was shoving in his mouth. It was fuel, he was hungry. Lost in his own private world he looked up to see Tony with his 'I am not amused' look on his face. "Cola, burger and fries. I raised you better than this. Not a vegetable or piece of fruit in sight. God forbid Alexander. Have you been eating shit like this for the past three months. Should that doctor have checked you for scurvy!" Tony clicked his tongue to exaggerate his complete disapproval. "I'm getting you something nutritious to eat. Give me that tray!"

Tony picked up the remains of Alex's food fest and binned it. Tony returned with two plates of salad with grilled chicken accompanied by bottled water.

Alex smiled as they both ate in silence. Alex broke first. "Bad day?"

"Don't start, Alex!" Tony stopped eating and looked at Alex who had finished his food already. Tony passed over his half finished plate and watched his son eat the leftovers as well. "You've lost a lot of weight, pickle."

Alex scowled at the petname. "No protein shakes since Athens. I've been mostly vegan as well. Its easier to avoid anything I'm unsure of. Yassen really told me off for not eating properly."

Tony's expression darkened but he held his tongue.

"Yassen's not the bad guy, papa. No scratch that, he is the bad guy, but he was OK to me. He paid for me to come here. Wanted me to patch things up with you. So not all bad."

Tony looked at the half ashamed , half guarded expression on his son's face and tried to keep calm knowing it was not Alex's fault. His son had been manipulated by a master at playing mind games. The bastard fucking his son over, literally and figuratively once again. "Lets not discuss that now. I feel such a failure. I should have drawn you closer not pushed you away this year. I do not deserve your empathy and understanding. Forgive me, Alex."

"Always Papa. I just followed Peter's orders." Alex hands in his pocket brushed over the cases. "I have a present for you. Two actually."

The pain black leather boxes were carefully opened by Tony. He smiled with sad tearful eyes. Regretting not going to Athens with all his heart. "I watched your races. Nigel send me them on a DVD. World record holder as well."

Alex shrugged.

"Michael, your phone has a camera. You have to take a photo of Alex and I." Tony pulled out the discs of gold with their brightly coloured ribbons. Putting both around Alex's neck. Alex winced as he stood up and smiled his arm around his father's waist. Dwarfing his father.

A guy on the next table called out. "Are those medals genuine?"

Tony beamed "My son is a double Paralympic Gold medalist in 100m S8 Freestyle and the 34 point 4 by 100m Freestyle relay."

"Paralympic?"

Alex scowled and let rip "Not the games for normal freaks and weirdos, but the true games for the cripples, retards and spastics."

"Alex please!"

Alex then sat down on the wheelchair and pulled off his left leg. "Look ... Cripple. King of the cripples in fact. Beat the aussies as well. Biggest bunch of sore losers at Athens." Alex smiled as his father rubbed his tired face.

Tony then laughed, Alex was a force of nature. Tony would work through his failures as a parent to connect with Alex and regain what had been lost. The looming deadline of Alex leaving for university was suddenly unwanted. Tony had forced independence on his son this year and he could not take it back. If things worked out in LA maybe Alex could transfer to a college here.

Tony pushed Alex to the sound stage for him to watch the final four pages of interlinking scenes be filmed. Wardrobe changes were checked for continuity. Sam arrived and then noticed the figure sat in a wheelchair beside Tony. The man strode over and held out his hand "Hello Alex. Sam Turner. I don't know if you remember me I was at your adoption party."

Alex shock the man's hand. "Ummm yeah. Great party huhh! I puked spectacularly all over the living room."

"Oh, are these your medals! Congratulations two golds. I hear you had a good games." Sam picked up one of the metal discs which was surprisingly heavy.

"Good and bad. Only got a sixth in the heats for 200m Individual Medley." shrugged Alex.

"Sorry but we'll talk later. I have to get back to work. There's a station exec on the floor as well. No slacking allowed!"


	28. Chapter 28

Alex woke up on a large sofa, nor really remembering getting back to the house or actually being undressed for bed. He stood up and took in the open ground floor with kitchen, breakfast bar, seating area and dining table with a large bifold door onto the patio. Then, Alex noted two doors to the right and prayed one was a bathroom. The elegantly curved, open stairs were positively the last thing he wanted to deal with this morning. The first door led into a small office with sofa, so probably doubled as a guest room. The next room was a small shower room. Alex pulled down a towel, stripped stood on his knees and got clean. Two days since his last decent wash, and he stank.

Alex then noted it was still really early just before 6am. If Alex could swing into Californian time today without naps he'd have worked through his jet lag. His bad reaction to the flight was caused by not sleeping either before flying or during the flight. Tony arrived downstairs 20 minutes after Alex had done battle with the un-adapted shower. He had already started a list of things needed to make like easier. A plastic stool would be a great help.

Tony then insisted on doctor's and dentist appointments, reiterating that he thought Alex had scurvy and not believing his son had eaten anything slightly nutritious since leaving Athens in September. Tony did not ask about details of Alex of his exploits. Just telling Alex that he had an interview scheduled with the CIA tomorrow and an introductory interview with a shrink later in the afternoon.

Alex was deemed physically fit, only his serious allergies being referred to a specialist and the dentist had suggested a trip to an orthodontist, making Alex severely self conscious of his teeth. Fucking Americans and their obsession with perfectly straight, white and beautiful teeth. Tony tried to placate Alex and explained it wasn't vanity, just looking your best. Of cause the actor had suffered at Eton while his teeth were encased in metal and straightened. Tony had emerged as a swan from being a small, overweight ugly duckling. Tony tried to explain these facts to his son. Alex whose image issues were deeply affected by his self hatred. A beautiful boy whose own reflection at times disgusted him.

The vegan restaurant on Mulholland lifted Alex's spirits somewhat. He ate tofu satay with fired rice and a side order of stirfried vegetables as Tony ate the house salad.

"You can ask me anything, papa. Don't treat me like I'll break." Alex asked wanting to get the awfulness of recriminations in the open and over with.

"I'm frightened you'll just tell me a whole list of things I'm going to hate knowing. I'm being an old woman. I want you to tell me it was all innocent and you've been happy and whole when I know we've both acted like injured animals hiding, hurting and lashing out."

"I've made some spectacularly bad decisions. Leaving home was number 1, but I couldn't live with Peter and Magda when you moved in with them. Even less so Aunty Sylvia, she made up with the rest of the Smith family at the funeral mass. Jesus, Tony, the fucking Smith's acted like they were grieving.. for a man they didn't know or want to know. At Loughborough, I fucked the first guy who showed an interest purely to ram home I hate ever single homophobic shit in the universe. How could these people reject Jon. He was wonderful, loving, understanding, smart and sneaky."

"He was all that. So who did you sleep with? Another swimmer or a fellow student?"

"The masseur, Craig. God, he turned out to be a creep. Just into casual sex. I used him, he used me. He back tracked so fast after he found out I was abused it was extremely funny." The wistful smile on Alex's face was paired with sad lost eyes.

"Except it wasn't was it. You felt rejected and it compounded your feelings of worthlessness. I have to admit I became a bit of a slut in New York. Casual sex never fills the hole caused by grief. I tried it when my mother died. It did not work then and it did not work after Jonny died either. " Tony looked at his son finally opening up. "So what happened next?"

"You were so distant at the National Championships. You had signed up to do two films back to back. No time for me. I spoke to Dylan and Peter. You were coping by being a workaholic. I copied. I put in for my A Levels and studied like mad. I got three A's and a B. I'd already been accepted by Cambridge. By July, I was pushing myself with training. Did not have much else to do, you left for New York. I wrote to Ash, heard nothing back. Not that I expected him to write back. He didn't come for Ian's funeral. He was meant to take my custody them, but didn't." Alex looked down. Tony could guess at the mix of emotions for Alex over that. Just another rejection to deal with. "Athens was OK. I met a guy on the South African team. A serious player, good in bed though. I like the sex, he was just into partying, nothing serious. Then I found out Ash had shot himself. I left." Alex took a long drink and pushed his plate away. "I went to Corfu. I got a job." A wonderful smile graced his son's face. "Richard was amazing. Open, honest, free, hard, truthful and a breath of fresh air. He worked like a demon. Such passion, talent and insight. In two months he painted more than he had in the last ten years. I was his muse, his model. I fell in love."

"Did he break your heart?" Tony asked quietly.

"No.. not that type of love. Not hard or all encompassing. No obsession or pain. It just was there. It played itself out. He called it a beautiful moment in time. I think he taught me a lot about life. It was like a plunge in ice cold water, shocking and refreshing. It gave me empathy and understanding. I think I've always been an outsider looking in on happy people, you know normal relationships. 2+2=4 whereas for me the answer was always 3 or 5, never right. In some ways I'm less of a head case. I'm sorry pop, but I think I grew up on you. I'm no longer a kid."


	29. Chapter 29

Alex sighed and tried to relax; not an easy thing while waiting for a ghost from your past to meet you. Here he was sat in a rather nice french restaurant on the Strand drinking a glass of house red, passible house red at that. He'd actually expected swill, not that Alex was a wine snob, he like red, really liked Italian wine, liked the stuff in California especially Pinot Noir, Shiraz less so. Maybe he was a wine snob. Most kids his age drank lager, alcopops or god forbid shots. Alex watched as a couple entered and were shown to their place by the waiter with the bad french accent. Alex had caught the bastard out by asking for a large glass of house red wine in french when asked to order by the surly bastard. The guy had just stared at him. Alex had relented and then spoken English. It wasn't as if he was asking for anything unusual in a bloody restaurant but hey, it was slightly entertaining to know Tom spoke more french than this guy. Then again Tom knew how to order food and drink in most European languages, nothing else mind you. Come to think of it, Tom probably knew all the tacky chat up lines as well.

The door opened again and a tall thin, man with thinning hair entered. He was wearing a very nice suit and had a mac over his arm. Smithers worked in the Tech Division at SIS HQ. Alex had kept in contact, Derek Smithers and his wife Leanne had visited the Fletcher-Smith house often, Alex had not seen him for over a year, not since Jon's funeral. Alex had come back from California two weeks previously and was living in a room rented in Clapham. Nice enough area, near to the tube and decent shops. He'd tried to get a summer job working for the London Olympic/Paralympic bid team but no luck there. He'd got an email from Smithers about working as a tea boy for him. Go figure. Something about keeping an eye on Alex so he did not disappear again. This was an informal interview ahead of the formal one tomorrow at HQ along with exam, head shrinking session and medical. Just for making tea.

"Good evening, Alex. You look well"

"So do you. I still can't get over the fact you used to wear a fat suit for work. What happened with the Royal and General?"

"Promotion Head of Technology and Ordnance, Deputy to Q himself."

"They really have a Q?"

"Yes since the nineteen twenties. Old habits, Q, M and such"

"Crickey Double O's as well?"

"That comes under Royal and General."

"Less said about that the better."

"Still bitter?"asked he irishman.

"Still getting my head shrunk about it. Fucking CIA labelled me with Stockholm Syndrome after Yassen caught up with me last December. Would you or would you not, if confronted with a Grade A Psychopath and international hit man do everything he said to stay alive?"

"Yes I would."

"So I'm just normal not in love with him. I've been in love I know the difference." Alex sat back and drank his wine. "Christ your not taping this or the spook squad isn't listening, cause I just described myself as normal. I'm nothing like you normal freaks, I'm 300% way better than you lot."

"I agree, you are the one and only Alex Fletcher Smith and no we are definitely no being overheard. I have a pocket scrambler in my jacket which I built myself. No one bugs me." Smithers smiled at the waiter who spoke in a low voice but with a Estuarine accent asking if Sir required a drink. Smithers ordered a G+T and then looked over the menu. "God, Alex is the food OK for you here?"

"Chips, green salad and grilled seabass, white bread. All without butter or lactic fluid. What are you having?"

"Steak and chips. Maybe some ratatouille as a side. A bottle of Bourgogne?"

"Is this on expenses cause if were splitting make it house red." Alex had to watch his pennies, disability benefit covered nearly everything, but he did not want to touch his other rainy day fund, as he called the full service pension he started to receive at 18.

"My treat, Leanne is visiting relatives. I tend to eat out. I really am useless at cooking."

"If I get the internship, come to my place tomorrow. I'll cook my veg curry."

"A deal." Smithers then put down his menu and looked at Alex. "You already have top secret clearance Alex, as a state secret yourself. I want you to provide a different persective to our R&D department. You have field experience and can also hold your on in an arguement. Too many timid geeks are interns. We need solid objections. Not enough money for fuck-ups or wasted time."

"Get any feed back from agents in the field."

"Some not much useful. You yourself gave good feedback with the little amount of kit you got."

"Umm. I'll see if I pass my psyche test first." The meal was ordered and they talked of Tony and his blossoming career in La-la land. New TV series was being filmed with him as main character. He'd just finished another low budget art film for a young talented director and was dating a hot shot producer of bad blockbusters. Alex ate the food which was really good. There was nothing on the sweet menu was remotely dairy free, so the meal finished with black coffees for both men.

Alex was put in a foul mood as soon as he got to the security screen the next morning. Metal detectors and prosthetics do not mix. Alex was wearing his best designers suit as well, he looked like a model for Tom Ford. At least there was someone from upstairs to vouch for him and he stripped in a room with three security guards rather than in the hall for all to see and his prosthetics were checked and x-rayed and he was given a very personal once over.

In a bland corridor upstairs, Alex waited with four other well groomed fellow prospects for the interviews to start. Alex nearly died when John Crawley walked up to him. "Morning Alex, How are you?"

"Spectacular, How are things at the bank? Still murder, mayhem and complete snafus all round?"

"Everything's super." said John with a brief emotionless smile.

"So are you interviewing or just here to pull my chain?" Alex was trying to be on his best behaviour still prickly bit no outright swearing. He really did want to tell Crawley where to shove it, but this was just another interview and he had to learn not to allow his winning personality to destroy any chance of a job except McD's.

"I'm afraid I am on the interview panel." said Crawley with his usual blank face.

"Blunt and Jones as well?"

"Afraid not. Come on through Alex. Your first up this morning." Crawley stood back and earned some brownie points for not trying to help Alex up.

Crawley was the only member of the interview panel Alex recognised. Alex smiled and said good morning and the games began. The first ten questions were about the internship and his placement at Cambridge from a man with salt and pepper hair and baggy ill fitting suit, Alex pegged him as R+D or maybe Q himself. Then the fifty something man with sleeked back brown hair suck the knife in.

"You are the only retired full agent to ever apply for an internship in another department."

"Well its not like I can go back to doing fieldwork now is it, bit difficult being a cripple and all. Do your colleagues all know about the crap you put me through at 14?"

The woman with grey hair answered "One of Alan Blunt's less than stellar decisions. You were a very good field agent."

"Until I met that shark." Alex quipped.

The next sly question from the bastard was "Are your computer skills still up to scratch?"

"By which do you mean have I hacked any other security agencies database? No just yours. Reading Hunter's file was very enlightening."

"Are you still physically fit. It states you no longer participate in training at the National Swim Centre."

"I got binned after my last bout of anaphylactic shock. I have to carry adrenaline around with me so I would automatically fail a drugs screen with that in my system. I still swim, cycle, weight train. I do some Pilates and yoga as well. I have no problems with core strength or general fitness apart from my lack of lower limbs and allergies. I'm still as fit as I was at 14."

"Very few younger prospects even pass fitness training at Brecon. Our youngest field agent at the moment is 19" stated Crawley.

Alex could not help but cut in "Did he or she have a bastard uncle who trained him up to be an agent from the age of three?"

"We also are fully aware of Ian Rider's treatment of you." said the woman trying to defuse the awkwardness of the situation. Alex had purposefully dragged his dirty baggage to the attention of everyone present.

"By treatment you mean abuse. Try not to pussy foot around what a complete bastard Ian Rider was, but then again isn't it a prerequisite for working at the Bank. I know I'm such a delightful individual really." Alex exhaled loudly and then looked hard at the two serious members of the interview panel "I came here to interview to be a gopher-cum-teaboy. I know I have other skills. I bet I'm one of the few experts on Scorpia interrogation techniques as utilised by Yassen Gregorovich."

John Crawley then tried to be the voice of reason, "Calm down Alex. We'e not here to cross examine you about that bastard. We know you're still in therapy after your last meeting with Cossack."

"I really am an expert on torture. Yassen taught me all he knew, hands on practical lessons and full detailed explanations."

"We know Alex. I think you can go to medical now for your assessment there"

Alex was surprised at that. He thought he'd already blown his interview. Maybe they wanted their interns to have a bit of back bone.


	30. Chapter 30

The one part of the day, Alex had been really not looking forward to turned out to be OK. The shrink turned out not to be some nameless bureaucrat with no fucking idea but in fact the doctor Alex had been talking to since his return to England. Michael Graves was OK, ex Army shrink and very no nonsense. Alex had visited the man's Harley Street clinic and had spent most of his sessions in the past few weeks complaining about the previous therapist Alex had been forced to see in Los Angeles.

Alex had initially seen Marika Constanopolos at the insistence of a very worried Tony and the bastards at the CIA. The bitch had after two session's, where Alex had been very open and forthcoming about his dealings with Yassen, concluded that he was a classic case of Stockhom Syndrome. At that point Alex had spat out his dummy and ranted that she did not understand him or his relationship with Yassen at all. The whole episode had made Alex extremely introverted after he'd had a monumental shouting match with Tony, who had agreed with Marika's assessment whole heartedly. Alex had withdrawn into his shell, signing only and not interacting with anyone else. Poor Tony had been driven up the wall by Alex's unreasonable and quite childish behaviour. Christmas day had seen Tony invite around a few friends and Alex had spent most of the day in his room. It had been the horrific events of Boxing Day that had got Alex out of his sulk. The news that Mother nature in all her glory could destroy on biblical proportions in Thailand and across south-east Asia had meant Alex had gone to the consulate in Downtown LA and had undertaken a frantic week of volunteer work. It kind of made Alex's problems seen a bit trivial.

"Hi Doc. Did not expect to see you here today. So, is this question and answer or do I get to vent about my stockholm syndrome."

"We ask questions. Short answers prefered. I will answer any queries of your own at the end."

"Right I'll just talk about Yassen at my usual appointment tomorrow." quipped Alex.

"Thats the idea." said the doc, glad that Alex seemed relaxed and unphased at the recorded assessment.

The word association was standardised and showed several surprising answers on Alex's part. Alex was definitely an individual and very, very clever. He was enjoying this as a game, and was not the first to view his psychological exam as such.

Alex was still upbeat and in a good mood for his physical. He knew his physical fitness was A1 with exception of his allergies and disability. Everything was fine as long as he had no contact with dairy products or if he needed to run, dance or hop. Alex's allergy was a serious condition and even here he was carrying his two EpiPens. The evaluation by the specialist in LA had found his allergy had not lessened with full adulthood but had become life threatening. Alex shook his head at his navel gazing but then again psyche evaluations tended to have that affect.

Three rings and Tony picked up his phone. "Papa.. I've had a long and stressful day. I just want to hear your voice."

"What have you been up to trouble?"

"I had a very intensive interview for an internship with Derek Smithers."

Tony closed his eyes "Them?"

"Yeah, its just a glorified tea boy. I don't think I passed. I was a bit emotional. A lot emotional. I wanted some closure I think. God help me if they give me the internship. Then, again I always thought Smithers was super cool. Not as cool as Dad. Dad was the sub-zero."

"Yes Jon was amazing and sneaky. In spite of everything, Jon loved his job. Especially the field work. Do not try to be Jon, Alex. You are your own person. Just remember that."

"So how's the filming going?" Alex changed the subject to something less emotionally charged. Avoidance was his specialist subject.

"Slow, intense and thrilling. You read the script. My character is disgusting, gauche and lewd. I spend my days being disgustingly filthy in body and mind. I can't wait to see you in September." Tony let Alex's abrupt change of subject slide. "So this is your third try at an internship."

Alex let out at dry half laugh. "At least I got an interview with the Paralympic committee, my details are on file.. Blahh. Blahh. The Royal Society did not even acknowledge my letter. I know I don't have to work, not with my state benefits and all, but my CV is top notch. I have all the voluntary work I did in LA, two Paralympic medals. I represented Team GB. I aced my interview for Cambridge. I think I'm loosing my touch."

"I think this summer's internships were probably fixed well before you applied. Maybe you should just relax and enjoy yourself. If you need to just come to visit me in Oz. The studios here are really superb."

"No.. I don't want to come to Sydney." Alex chewed the inside of his lip. He'd never told Tony about the secrets Yassen had told Alex about his godfather. Facts Alex had relayed to ASIS. Oh by the way Ash was a deep cover Scorpia agent. That fact had gone down like a lead ballon especially the details of how Alex had come by the information. Alex wondered just how long Yassen had been threatening Ash before he killed himself. Mind you, Yassen would not have wanted Ash to have a quick death. One of Ash's contacts must have warned him an assassin hell bent on revenge was after him.

"What aren't you telling me, baby boy? You've gone very quiet."

"I was just thinking about stuff. Stuff that got Stockholm syndrome stamped on my file. I ... I have a session tomorrow. I might timetable an extra hour or so this week. Raking over stuff has made me a bit fragile, I guess. Papa... I feel a bit lost. I wish I was with you. Stupid huhh. I'm an adult but I still want to be a child."

"Alex, you will always be my number one son."

"Miss you, Papa. The film would be better with zombies you know."

"Yes Alex you say that about all my films. Talk to me tomorrow after your session. I'm not on set tomorrow so as they say here, no worries, Sport."


	31. Chapter 31

No news was meant to be good news, after three days Alex still had not heard anything about the internship. Alex read his emails and James Sprintz had sent through an invite to Point Blanc Academy Class of 2004 Reunion. September 10th in Paris. James had booked a small boutique hotel for the weekend and was offering to pay for a first class Eurostar ticket for Alex. This was also to celebrate James' 19th birthday. Alex thought back to the party he had attended in LA last February, when he had met another of his former classmates, one he only really got to know during the debrief and medical assessments after the SAS had stormed the cliff top eerie.

Alex thought back to a chance encounter that had reintroduced him to the Point Blanc alumni.

...

Alex looked at the young man across the room. He had definitely met him before. Then it struck him, it was a face that haunted his dreams, six boys with the same mannerisms, matching voices and laughs. All well behaved, studious and utterly creepy.

It was a week until Alex's eighteenth birthday, he could not believe it, here in California and there was a reminder of his old life.

The boy across the room was surrounded by a crowd of friends and could not be more different than his doppelganger at Point Blank. Alex had only interacted with James Sprintz in any meaningful way at the school from Hell, but Alex had not contacted him since his accident. Cassian looked at Alex and a flicker of recognition passed across his face. They only really met for a few hours after all the captives had been released.

Alex ducked his head, Cassian was coming over to talk.

"Alex? Alex Friend or was it Rider?"

"Alex Fletcher-Smith. I was adopted in 2002. I ran through three sets of guardians after Point Blanc." Alex looked at the young man noting all the differences from his evil doppelganger.

"You still in therapy? I am. I still have nightmares about that fucking place. It was a total wake up call about my chosen path in life. I was not going to end up a twisted fuck like Grief or Miss Stomachbag." Cassian then asked the million dollar question. "Are you still working for MI6 then?"

" Right, yes I am still in therapy. No, I got a medical discharge from MI6 in October 2001. Normal life suits well enough."

"So did you hear the rumour about Tony Fletcher's son. I heard my mom gossiping that he tried to top himself and his father brought him to LA to keep an eye on him."

Alex smiled at the mess of lies still following him. "So glad the rumour mill is working as well here as it did in London. I had a bit of a hiccup regarding life choices in December and I'm grounded until my trust fund kicks in."

"21?"

"No, 25. I deserve it for running away and making really really bad choices. Now, I'm here and cramping Tony's style."

"Tony?"

"Tony Fletcher my father."

"So whats with the Smith?"

"Umm, don't spread it around but Tony's gay. He and his partner adopted me in October 2002. His partner was Jonathan Smith, he died in January last year. Hence Tony working like a man possessed to get over his grief. They'd been together since 1987. Tony was doing his own thing and I did mine. I bummed around Europe without a care in the world after the Paralympics. Had a serious love affair, a couple of casual relationships. I got really fucked over by my last lover so I'm back in therapy. Tony thinks I'm a serious head case and next week I'm 18. I could just walk out of his life. Not that I'm going to. We both made serious mistakes last year. We are family. Sometimes you have to make stupidly awful fuck ups to realise that. So don't go spreading around about Tony being a Friend of Dorothy. It could put a dampener on his career."

"So medical discahrge, huhh? What happened?"

"Can we go somewhere we will not be overheard and I'll tell you."

Cassian's room was huge. The state of the art digital sound system started to blare out some serious dance music and the two seventeen year olds reconnected with the past three years. Cassian's hand moved to touch Alex's trouser's and traced the hard plastic and metal of the prosthetics.

"Both legs? A shark? CIA? Shit Alex. I've just been expelled from two schools and been arrested for possession once. I'm on court appointed therapy and rehab. I get that drugs aren't the solution now. Well all things in moderation. I am not an addict and I only use sparingly and not in public. My mom's been a lot more hands on. She gets I had a hard time with her being such a go getter. I know women execs have to work three times as hard to get anywhere. My dad's still a grade A jerk. I no longer bother with him. Mom's present boyfriend is a baseball coach. He's great. He has two kids. I like having siblings you know. So Alex, show me your legs. I want to see what that shark did to you."

Alex pulled out his shirt and dropped his trousers. He then sat on the bed to take off his prosthetics. Cassian's hands traced the scarred flesh with such gentleness, Alex shivered.

Cassian smiled a cocky grin and looked at Alex's flushed face. "Your lover's were male weren't they."

"Yeah."

"I'm turning you on aren't I." Cassian looked at Alex with cool penetrating stare, weighing him up.

Alex with nothing to loose lay down pulling Cassian on top of him.

...

Well, he'd dated Cassian for a couple of weeks, casual sex at every opportunity. Cassian James had sent out the word to the other graduates that he'd found Alex Rider. James had been in contact with Sabina Pleasure and his old friends reconnected. This would be the first time since 2001 that he'd met all of them. He had talked and emailed James Sprintz the most since then.

Tony had been half pissed at Alex for dating, worried at Alex's emotional rollercoaster and blaze attitutude to physical relationships. Tony had ranted long and hard about just fucking people and not getting to know and dating them first. Alex got his papa was worried, but thats what parents did.

Alex replied to James, Yes he would be there. What do you get a billionaire's son for his 18th birthday. It was then that the doorbell went. Alex rented the spare room of the flat owned by Mel and George, both worked in the city. It was midweek so Alex was home alone as usual.

The courier at the door handed Alex a plain envelope, which he had to sign for. Inside were instructions. Alexander Fletcher Smith was required at SIS Headquarters Friday morning at 7, for a weekend of team building and basic training. Alex groaned, he could just bet it was at Brecon. Shit!


	32. Chapter 32

George heard his lodger, Alex move about. It was 4am and far too early on a thursday morning to be awake and making noise. Mel was still fast asleep when George slipped out of bed to see what the problem was.

Alex was sat on the bathroom floor holding his left leg, Alex's dark blue towel was wrapped around his left stump. George had taken a leap of faith taking on a lodger who was both disabled and living off benefits, even if he was job hunting. Unusually, Alex had paid his four months rent up front. He was off to Cambridge in October and George would rent out the room to another student going to one of the London Universities. Alex stated he would take this room over the summer next year, if available. It was a win-win situation for Mel and George.

"What's up Alex?" asked the tired and disheveled 30 year old.

"Infection. Bad. I think I need to go to hospital." Alex pulled the towel way to reveal a red angry looking stump and a yellow boil, which looked ready to burst.

"Oh Christ!" George exclaimed before getting his phone

A chat on the phone to the on-call GP confirmed Alex needed to go straight to hospital and a ambulance was on its way.

Alex sat in casualty waiting for minor surgery to lance the infected area, clean and dress the wound. Tomorrow he was meant to be going to his orientation weekend for SIS and he would not be able to walk anywhere.

He dreaded his next phone call, Alex above all else hated feeling weak and helpless, but he was in hospital with no prosthetics and he would only be released if he had a responsible person to take him home and monitor him.

Three rings and Sylvia Smith picked up her phone and listened patiently to her great nephew ask if she could give him a lift back to his rented room.

"No darling, I insist you come here. You can contact the people about your course and sit and rest up... Its no bother. I'll drop you anywhere you like tomorrow. I've only seen you once since you came back and you look like you need a bit of feeding up. I'll be about 25 minutes." Sylvia was good to her word. She even had Alex's wheelchair, a thing Alex had thought was in storage. Alex felt guilty for not taking her offer up of room and board last year but Loughborough had been a learning curve in becoming fully independent. He rather spend a day at her house being fussed over than in hospital any day.

A ten year old Nissan Micra pulled up opposite the main entrance to SIS headquarters, oblivious of the parking restrictions, but a disabled badge was plainly on view. Four others stood and watched the driver, a grey haired old lady, get out and open the boot, before commanding "You, Young man, get this wheelchair out of here for me. I'm as old as I look and I can't lift things like I used too." The nearest bystander was a weedy, bespectacled dark haired youth who automatically went to help. The larger, fitter blond haired young man piped up, "Shouldn't your passenger be doing all the lifting." The old woman ignored the comment, and just told her young helper to erect the chair. Then the chair was wheeled to the passenger side door for the young man sat there, who manhandled himself from car seat to wheelchair with the old lady looking on. Sylvia then told her helper to take the bag in the boot to the waiting point, before thanking him profusely and calling him an absolute angel.

Another eight misfits arrived before Sylvia then told Alex to take care of himself and call her for a pick up on Monday if everything went OK or to call her and she'd come and pick him up in Wales if it did not. A short hug and his family moment ended, none of the other interns/recruits came with family to send them off. The blond haired creep then asked "Wales?"

Alex smirked knowingly "Special Forces training at Brecon. You really have no idea."

The minibus turned up before any other questions were asked and the other passengers got in. Alex lifted himself onto the buses step, and slid to the nearest seat. The driver folded the wheelchair, smiling as he placed the chair next to Alex's bag in the boot. he'd been fully warned of the disabled intern, he was just surprised he was in a wheelchair.

No one spoke during the journey. Alex slept fitfully knowing life at Brecon was hard with little comfort once you got there.

Sergeant Harry Dixon waited for the intake from SIS, five interns and eight recruits. One of particular interest. Medical was on alert, the intern in question had been in hospital yesterday with a serious infection. The message concerning the young man had been left by SIS.

Alex had spoken to Human Resources yesterday. He had been reassured that his course was strictly lectures, seminars and practicals suitable to his disability; so no hikes, runs, combat or the dreaded assault course. The woman called Jill, had cheerfully stated Alex had already passed SIS training in 2001. So just to think of it as a refresher.

The recruits lined up while the driver unloaded the luggage and assembled the wheelchair. Alex seated himself and then belatedly joined the others. A tall black sergeant screamed abuse as Harry walked forward with precise measured strides and started to wheel Alex away.

"I'm afraid it medical for you, Cub. If you're OK, you get to go to this afternoons classes. Its just general fitness assessment for everyone else. Sergeant Moore had been looking forward to making this sad bunch of no-hopers cry."

"Been keeping well yourself?"

"Not so bad, Cub. Only a few months left until my retirement. I'll see the winter intake in for the regiment, then head off to pastures new."

"Oh anything interesting, planned for your retirement?" asked Alex.

"I'll have six months to take stock and then Uni, I reckon. Probably the Open university, science degree. I never bothered with school when I was young. I wasted my time. The Army has shown me that self improvement is the key. I was an infantry grunt and I ended up running Special Forces training. I've taken a few courses to get me to uni level. After that who knows."

"That sounds like me. Maths at Cambridge. Tea boy for Smither's in the summer. After Uni, maybe GCHQ to number crunch there."

Medical was just the same as Alex remembered, the same Major poked Alex's leg and complained that he was still running a fever.

Alex joined the afternoon classes to see all his fellow interns looked knackered.

An instructor with Captain's pips gave the introduction to training "Right first thing first. You have all had you basic fitness tests.."

"Smith hasn't!" piped up the blond young man with an attitude. Alex cringed. Rule no. 1 was never draw attention to yourself it never ended well. Rule no. 2 never draw attention to anyone else it ended worse for you.

"Mr. Hopkins, right?" The poor misguided fool nodded instead of the required 'Yes Sir.'. "Mr Hopkins you now have kitchen duty for the next two days. You may have noticed Mr. Fletcher-Smith is disabled. We tailor the inductions to fit the interns requirements. Mr. Fletcher Smith is an intern for R&D in Q branch. I have been informed that he will be spending his summer making tea as no one trusts him after the hacking incident two years ago. As to his fitness, Mr. Fletcher Smith is fitter than any of you misfits, he has two Paralympic Gold medals from Athens last year. He hug up his water wings to go to Cambridge. I hear it has a fair maths department. So now I've told Cub's life story, You lot can tell me yours."

The young man at the front, who had helped Sylvia Smith earlier that morning, raised his hand.

"Yes Mr. Tybold."

"You called Mr. Fletcher-Smith Cub. Is that a codename?"

"That is nothing you need to know, but you can start."

With that Alex learned Mr. Tybold was the other intern for Q branch and a third year at Cambridge this autumn and still only 19.


	33. Chapter 33

Alex continued to annoy the others taking the course, as various members of Special Forces came forward to either slap 'Cub' or 'Double O Nothing' on the back or to offer condolences over his dad. Alex even caught Sergeant Moore smiling in his direction and he wondered what Harry had told him, something embarrassing he could guess..

It got truly freaky on Friday at dinner, when the canteen team produced a special tray just for him. The corporal on duty practically gushed "Its all dairy free and veggie. I know Jon told everyone that you have allergies and that your pa, Tony was a health nut. I got the salad recipe from my sister. She likes healthy stuff too." Alex had forgotten that Jon had been totally accepted here, even though he was queer. He was practically married to Tony and completely open and unapologetic for his life choices. Alex felt the hole in his gut, he missed his dad, the happy and their comfortable home in Lambeth. Alex was glad he was sat on his own. He ate and went back to the hospital where he had been assigned sleeping quarters.

By breakfast on Saturday, which was far too early, Jeff Tybold was curious enough to ask Alex Fletcher Smith the burning question. "Everyone seems to know you. You haven't been told off about anything apart from you hacking SIS two years ago. Have you been here before?"

"Umm, yeah, here and Hereford. My birth father was in the SAS. He died in 1987. His brother brought me and died in 2001. He was a special operations operative, you know under Alan Blunt. I was then adopted and my adoptive dad was a communications specialist who taught Encryption at Hereford occasionally. He died doing something Spooky in Pakistan last year. So most here know me. I came to a bunch of funerals last year, three SAS died with my dad Jon."

"That explains a lot. They all treat you like they're your honourary uncles."

"Well I would not go that far. Be thankful Wolf isn't here. He's the grumpiest bastard in the entire world." Alex kept quiet about the rest of K unit. Snake and Eagle had both greeted him like an old friend, having missed him on his previous visits with Jon and when he stayed with Harry.

Alex wheeled himself around and waved at the few he knew. He kept his head down and studied hard during their seminars and lectures.

Harry Dixon joined him for lunch on Sunday. As Alex had felt much better and had unpacked his prosthetics and had been able to hobble to the practical sessions, firearms, concealed items, electronic espionage (bugging) and finally firearms. The demonstration was by none other than Eagle, who picked on 'Cub' to come forward and have a try. Alex had done this before in France. John Rider had instructed firearms to all and instinctual firing to the chosen few at Malagosto. Yassen teaching Alex had been like having a lesson from his dead father, only one step removed. They had hunted deer in the mountains. Yassen giving him tips on moving more fluidly and silently. He had to be careful of each footfall, training to be extra observant. Alex had enjoyed the fact that the assassin had constantly challenged him.

Alex looked down to the stripped gun. Pieces disassembled automatically as he thought about the end of his autumn holiday.

Eagle looked puzzled at the effortless display of precision "Oh, I didn't know you had any firearms training."

"Oh, Tony was playing a spy or cop or something, I think in March. Filming in the desert. I got dragged along. I was bored to tears and hung out with the firearms specialists. Tony had to practice and I'd accompany him. I learned a lot about cleaning firearms, gun safety and how to shoot. I think Garry might have been ex-SAS. He had a bad limp and could shout almost as good as Harry, I mean Sergeant Dixon." Gary had called him Cub so it was nearly a certainty he'd been at Brecon in 2001.

"They taught you well. Right reassemble it, then you can be first on targets" Eagle kept it at that. Alex had helped Tony learn to shoot in the style of a true professional and had a blast with the firearms guys on set. He'd shot a few targets. It had been fun, safe and fun. Totally different from the occasions when Alex had been the target. He'd have died at Point Blanc if he hadn't been wearing his special ski suit from Smithers. He'd been covered in bruises from the impact of each bullet.

Alex stood, safety glasses on. He had checked his gun was fully loaded and the safety was on. He felt the weight of the gun in his hand. He meditated on his posture and his footing. Yassen had tried to explain it as centering yourself on the balls of you feet. Alex had to centre himself on his knees and then down to the ground. He was painfully aware of the throbbing pain in his left stump but he accepted this pain and then looked at the seven targets, Safety off and then he fired. He broke from his trance as he put the safety back on and handed the pistol to Eagle to check. "Very good Cub, In fact excellent, 10 out of 10 for each target."

Eagle went to talk to Harry Dixon afterwards. "Did you watch Cub shoot? He was in the zone. One glance and seven targets one after each other. I wish I'd timed him."

"5.1 seconds. Not quite a course record but close. If he was able bodied he'd be head hunted by M for special training or as everyone calls them Double O's." Harry sat back. "Its in his blood, he's so like his dad, his birth father, its frightening. John Rider was a legend when I joined. Mostly for getting a dishonourable discharge, but the man was a phenomenal shot. Cub never knew his dad, he died when he was 3 months old. I don't know how much Cub knows about his birth parents but its not our place to ask. Jon and Tony are the only parents Alex acknowledges. We should respect that. Cub will work at Chletenham, Memwith Hill or Fylingdales. Number crunching as he puts it. He might even work for Q. Who knows."

Eagle then asked "What happened to him? Wolf met him on an operation in France. Fox spoke of several operations. You saw him in 2003, you said he was very ill and disabled. Did his accident happen on an operation?"

Harry had read Cub's file. "Wolf knows most of the details of Cub's accident. Two CIA agents pretending to be Cub's parents died. Cub was critically wounded. The fact he was a teenager was the only thing that saved his life. I think Scorpia was involved. The shit hit the fan over us and the Yanks using a teenage agent. I'm still surprised the press never got hold of any of the details. I fear it will come to light at some point, but Cub is protected by his new family. He's a different person. Did you not notice that sad, serious little boy was hurt and grieving when he was here in 2001. No you and the rest of K Unit were to busy hazing him to notice."

Eagle could not answer that. In hindsight, Alex had been too quiet, too serious and too controlled for a normal teenager. He was definitely happier and more relaxed now. Even with his strangely proficient abilities.


	34. Chapter 34

Sylvia Smith was relaxing in the best way possible. Listening to the Afternoon play on Radio 4 and knitting. She had started a new project, an aran jumper to keep Jon's boy warm this winter. She stopped her counting at the end of the row and looked at the boy in question, who was fast asleep on her sofa. This weekend must have been really tiring for him. He had an appointment at the doctor's in the morning and dependent on that, he would go back to his rented room and going to work. Sylvia was in two minds about Alex working for the government like her Jon. She was only placated by the fact Alex was disabled and unable to go galavanting around the world to dangerous places like Jon had. At least he'd been looked after in Brecon. Alex had told her how he'd been checked twice a day by the medical team. His infection and the inflammation had eased.

It had been a hard year for her since Jon had died. It had been like she had lost Alex as well. Tony had taken her to the British Championships last April but then she had heard not a peep from anyone until the summer. Alex had a series of sent postcards from Spain and then Athens, Corfu, Venice, Nice and finally California. Short notes that did not say very much. She had them stuck on her fridge door. She was extremely fond of Alex and understood his reticence over the rest of the Smith family. Jon had always been her favourite nephew. She herself had been an outsider in some ways to the Smith family. She had no children herself, five miscarriages and two still births. The large family she still grieved over. George her husband had died in 1986. Jon had helped her through her grief, such a kind sensitive boy. In him, she had a surrogate son and in Alex a surrogated grandson.

She had not been surprised when Jon had fallen in love with the bohemian free spirit that was Tony Fletcher. In some ways it had been obvious that Jon was not cast in the same mould as the rest of the family. He was always an individual, creating his own path in life, not caring of the attitudes or prejudices of others. Margaret and William had two perfect sons and then Jon, a true cuckoo in the nest. Their youngest was their oddest, never accepting his place to be a working man with narrow tastes and perceptions. William was in many ways a bigot. Her George had accepted the changing face of London. Cheerful until his last day working for London Transport. He had friends who were Londoners just as much as himself whether they were born there or somewhere else. William had painted Jon with the same brush as the foreigners, the freaks and weirdos.. not normal, not right, to be avoided at all costs.

She half-listened and caught Alex as he spoke a phrase of french in his sleep. It made Sylvia smile '_I need to get some new trousers_?' What was Alex dreaming about? The door bell rang and Alex sat bolt upright, immedeiately awake at the unusual sound.

Sylvia muttered "I wonder who that could be? I normally don't see a soul outside of my normal social circle."

"Its your WI meeting tonight, isn't it?" said Alex rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Yes. You stay put, they can wait for my old bones to get to the door. Probably just some tike selling stuff." In her own good time, Slyvia packed her knitting in her bag. She stood stiffly and shuffled down the hall in her slippers.

Alex overheard "I was just passing Sylvia and I thought I'd drop off those photos of Des's two boys I told you about."

"Come in, Maggie. Just to warn you I have a guest staying."

The two women entered and Margaret stood stock still looking at a blond young man put on prosthetic legs before stating "I'll go make tea , shall I, while you girls talk." At that Alex got up and went into the kitchen.

"Girls? He's a strange one. He makes me feel young, so its good for my heart I recon." Sylvia sat again in her comfy recliner before noting Margaret Smith still frozen in the doorway. "Come in woman, make yourself at home. Alex is staying for a few days. He's been a bit under the weather. So I've been feeding him up. He's living on his own in a room in Clapham. Starting work next week."

Margaret had been a frequent visitor and Sylvia had never mentioned the boy Alex. "So, no longer swimming in Loughborough?"

Sylvia spoke in a low whisper "His allergies flared up in LA a few months ago. He had to take some drugs that are banned, so no more swimming professionally. He was a bit cut up about it but these things are sent to test us."

Alex busied himself and made up a tray. Jon's mother was not a person he wanted to known. He was afraid he blurt out what he really thought of the woman and he was positive Sylvia would not be impressed if he called her sister-in-law a bitch. He could be polite, he just had to think of it like work. Smile, be charming and do not tell the truth. Come off it lying was easy, wasn't it.

He came in and played mother, pouring tea and passing around the plate of the hobnobs. The women talked of people and children he did not know, he smiled and nodded like a professional actor as pictures were shown.

Sylvia noted the time, "Oh Maggie I have to get myself ready for the WI tonight. We're having salad for tea if you're staying"

"Oh no, I have to get back. Its been nice catching up."

Alex then asked "Where do Jon's parent's actually live now?"

"Oh, Ealing. A nice semi, in a nice area. They moved there in 1984 and stayed. Jon insisted on finishing his schooling at Brookland and ended up staying here with George and I. It was the beginning of them not talking really. The area changed in the seventies and eighties, first a bit more ethnic then the yuppies. Des lives in Hounslow with his wife Tracy and their two boys and Michael lives in Stevenage. He's getting divorced. His wife ran off with his best friend, so the less said about that scandal the better. Maggie gets upset at that harlot. I always think there is no smoke without fire, most youngsters get divorces now anyway, even the Royal family."

Alex could not help but glance at the china cabinet with its fifty years of carefully collected Royal memorabilia and tasteful collectibles on view.


	35. Chapter 35

The internship proved that Smithers and his small team in Research and Development had Alex mostly making tea and filling in the forms the rest of the team did not want to. As a government concern there were forms for everything from Stationary requests, to lab time allotments and the various tedious risk assessments. Risks Alex was made aware of by being a sort of lab test dummy as well. It was mostly boring but with interesting asides. Smither's was entertaining and a good boss. The team worked well and everyone accepted Alex as Derek treated the kid like his favourite nephew.

The one perk of working for SIS was the membership of an exclusive fitness centre with pool. Alex arrived at 6:30 to warm up and swim, at 8:30 he was dressing. His shift was from 10 this morning so he had time to grab a coffee. Alex did not have a hangover but he had drunk a few glasses of champagne yesterday. The party the LOCOG offices had continued into the early morning. London was the venue for the Olympics and Paralympics in seven years. Alex had been invited to the reception as a double Paralympic medalist from London. He had taken Dylan as his guest as Aunty Sylvia said it was all far too upbeat for her. Alex had smiled as everyone had been amazed at their success.

Alex stood in the queue at cafe at the Albert Embankment and noted phones started to go off, messages to almost everyone waiting. Alex looked at his phone Bomb attacks near Kings Cross. The cafe emptied as everyone went back to work at SIS Headquarters.

Alex had worked double shifts, running messages, checking intel and filing. On his third day he got to go home as the general mayhem and paranoia settled to almost normal levels. The next day Alex was back into his R&D routine, supplying tea and coffee to the techs and the usual boring form filling when two serious looking gents turned up.

"Mr Fletcher-Smith, you presence is required upstairs."

Alex stayed silent as he was escorted upstairs, he had the distinct impression he was going for a stay of execution. "Dead man walking" the apprehension was a bit of a killer. He was shown into a plush office and the secretary buzzed them into the large office of the head of SIS, "M" was a woman Alex never expected to meet, not as a lowly intern. Alex expected it to be a one to one conversation but he walked in on a meeting of five gentlemen in a video conference and the very familiar face of Yassen Gregorovich on screen.

Alex's attention was taken up by his instructor and lover. "Hello Yassen" was out of his mouth before he checked himself and then added "Hi, everyone."

M was an unassuming looking woman, well groomed, short neat grey hair and in her late fifties. Alex actually did not known much about her, but he guessed not many did. She spoke with the clipped tones of the English Upper class but that did not mean anything. "Mr Fletcher-Smith or should I say Agent. We have a situation which called for a skilled interrogator. We contacted Mr. Gregorovch to employ his services and he tells us you passed his detailed instruction on such techniques and as he is not available you would be suited to undertake the task in hand."

Alex narrowed his eyes at Yassen's now obvious mirth. "Mr. Crawley at the Bank is well aware of my skills and lack of actual practical experience in that area."

Yassen then laughed, "Do not doubt yourself, Little Alex. You passed my instruction not once but twice. Most I selected for specialist training from Malagosto were nothing compared to you. You who can still defy me, even after all I did to you." Yassen then had a feral grin on his face, one which played along with a leering look and slow appreciation of his prey.

"We thank you for your time Mr. Gregorovich. We may be speaking again." The video link was cut and all eyes were on Alex.

"We have a situation. Four bombs and four suicide bombers, but there was a fifth device. The unlucky gentleman in question got onto a tube carriage containing two SAS soldiers just back from IRAQ. They spotted his strange behaviour and brought him in. The press are not aware of this and we wish to wring him dry. Scorpia based interrogation techniques and the few who can wield them are a hot commodity. Mr. Gregorovich stated he trained you fully on all the techniques perfected by himself and Dr. Three." The woman's gaze bored into Alex. "So can you bring one of my team up to speed or are you able to fulfill our pressing deadline."

"I take it usual techniques have been used, pychological, physiological and chemical?'

"Yes."

"In tandem or separate?"

This got a puzzled look from the older man with a cold calm expression. "We wish for answers not to kill the subject."

Alex snorted. "I'm not a doctor but it only takes the smallest amount of pressure applied in the right way to break someone. What are his phobias and beliefs? I take his threshold for pain and standard techniques is quite high."

The one who looked the most military snorted "Bastard is self righteous and a bloody martyr for his cause."

Alex smiled coldly "There are worse things than dying."

The military man looked at Alex fully. "Where did you serve? Afganistan or Iraq?"

"Neither, I worked for the Bank in 2001 when I met Yassen. We became close then, very close."

"A bloody traitor!" was ground out by the man on the right of M.

"Oh, no. Nothing so neat and tidy as just defecting. Yassen interrogated me for over two weeks in all. Scorpia instructed him to break then kill me. I told him everything I knew but since I knew fuck all to begin with, it wasn't much. Yassen liked my fight, my spirit. I'd been badly hurt and should have been a broken pile of sniveling captive but I surprised him as I always upping the ante. I ran with the idea if you keep your interrogators angry they get sloppy and you might escape. Well dying is an escape of sorts, isn't it. Yassen is never sloppy but I did get him very very angry. Not at me luckily. I was the one subject he never broke, well not completely anyway. I think I have several screws loose but I make the tea in sub-basement 3, I don't do anything important now."

M cut through Alex little rant. "So will you undertake this specialist task?"

"I will evaluate the situation, then I will advise if it warrants just that or get my hands dirty if needed. I take it you want no permanent damage to the subject."

"We prefer not to violate Great Britain's laws and international obligations."

"Pity." Alex said under his breath. "Its so much easier of you play hardball to begin with."

"Mr Donnelly, Please escort Mr. Fletcher-Smith to our evaluation centre."

"May I change first. My suit is designer and I don't want to ruin it."

Alex left with his escort before the discussion continued.

"You let an agent broken by Scorpia back into SIS. Are you mad?" was ranted at M.

"Gregorovich picked Alex up again last December. Alex and that russian's relationship is not normal to say the least. We prefer to keep Alex close. His working as a freelance or god forbid actually making his situation known to the press would be far worse than keeping him entertained downstairs playing with the R&D section."

"I'm missing something here. We normally make mistakes and embarrassments disappear."

"The Russians, the Americans and worst of all the Cubans would not allow that to happen. Alex is quite a popular boy with them as well as Gregorovich."

"I though that teen agent was disabled and was well practically insane." stated the third man who had so far remained silent.

"That was Alex Rider?"

"Yes, he's grown up to be a charming young man, hasn't he. Just don't mention Ian Rider or Alan Blunt in his presence." quipped M, before steering the meeting on to more pressing matters.


End file.
